


Twilight

by 0KKULTiC



Series: We Would Be Savage [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Captain!Hongjoong, Crazy Rich Venusians, EmotionallyConstipated!Wooyoung, GalacticOfficer!Seonghwa, General merriment, HybridPilot!Yunho, Interplanetary Travel, Jealousy, Jongho!Jongho, M/M, More innuendo because I'm 12, Outer Space, Party, Royalty, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Seonghwa is still a twat rest assured he will come around. Eventually., Sexual Tension, Siren!San, Space Royalty, The bouginess is strong with these ones, Venus - Freeform, VenusianPrince!Mingi, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?, a touch of jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18729040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Venus.The universe's most exclusive planet. One does not simply land on Venus. They can only be allowed entrance into the atmosphere with express permission and the proper papers. When the Compass leads them to the rich planet, Hongjoong wracks his brain to figure out how they're gonna get in.Luckily, the Venusians are uncharacteristically welcoming. Turns out there's a wedding on the surface! ATEEZ's wily captain just hopes they can find whatever the Compass is pointing them toward - without almost getting killed this time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> // this work is unbeta'd and will contain increased spelling/grammatical errors. thank you for understanding.

“What are you guys doing?” Hongjoong asks when he walks into the kitchen first thing in the morning. 

 

It’s been a couple of days since collecting San, the alluring siren, and yet again the ATEEZ crew find themselves lapsing into a sort of content tedium. Shortly after leaving Obureru’s atmosphere, the Compass stirred again. It flickered back to life, spitting out coordinates a few sectors away. Though the numbers scramble perpetually, whatever it spits out remains in the same general area. That means they’re at least headed in the right direction. Hongjoong figures they’ve got a day and maybe a half before they get close enough to care about the little details.

 

After about a day of shy hesitance, San swiftly integrated with the crew like he’d been around since day one. He sticks by Wooyoung’s side a lot which isn’t surprising. The siren also has a fascination with Yunho’s tail - that’s par for the course, though. Honestly, who doesn’t? Hongjoong would never dare say it, but even  _ he _ sometimes fantasizes about touching it. Jongho and San roughhouse with one another and talk music, and the captain himself likes telling San his theories about the Compass. It’s nothing profound - the friendship they’ve all fostered - but it’s growing into something Joong thinks may be lifelong. Little by little, they nurture their allegiance - sometimes with conversations both light and deep. Sometimes with… Whatever everyone is doing crowded around San at the kitchen table.

 

“We’re feeding San stuff to see what he can eat,” Yunho says like it’s the most perfectly normal thing in the world to do. Hongjoong frowns at the buffet of pre-portioned Coalition meals (that they’re  _ supposed to be rationing _ ) scattered around.

 

“I trust that I can at least salvage some of this for breakfast?” The captain wonders, taking a seat next to his pilot and closest confidant. 

 

Yunho nods enthusiastically, scooting a barely touched bowl of soup toward him, “So far, we’ve learned that dairy is not his friend.”

 

“But I love it!” San whines, pouting from his spot across the table.

 

“You barely made it to the sink,” Jongho chides the siren as if he’s the baby of the group and not himself. 

 

“But ice cream is so good,” San crosses his arms in a huff.

 

“No throwing up on my ship- that’s a rule starting now,” Hongjoong barks, spooning the mysterious soup in his mouth. It turns out to be a creamy tomato soup which explains why the siren’s not touching it. He is, apparently, dairy-intolerant. Joong figures it’s logical he wouldn’t tolerate it well. How much dairy do they  _ have _ underwater? The mental image of a person trying to milk a manatee briefly crosses his head, and he has to physically brace himself to stop from laughing out loud (and getting soup everywhere).

 

Jongho jokes, “Like- No throwing up at  _ all _ , or-“

 

“What do you think?” Wooyoung (who, of course, is perched next to the siren) says.

 

“Keep it to the commode,” Joong clarifies to sate Jongho’s pedantic snark. “Any less depressing findings on the food front?” He asks San.

 

“Um, eggs- well poultry eggs are good,” San nods chipperly. “Poultry in general is okay. Tofu is, too. I haven’t had any veggies I can’t have either, though I can’t say I really like them.”

 

“We scoured the GC stores for genuinely hot peppers,” Wooyoung sighs sadly, “But there’s nothing. I wanted to try spice on him.”

 

“He says it’s like tasting pain!” San adds.

 

Hongjoong chuckles,“As much as I respect the scientific process, can we please clear this table and actually eat breakfast? Or, well, pick something from all the shit you’ve already opened?”

 

“Yes, sir.” “Fine.” “Okay!” The others answer in a chorus of (slightly dejected) acceptance.

 

Food is cleared off, portioned out, and put on bowls for consumption. Idle chit-chat bounces across the table, topics ranging from siren nighttime stories to wacky jobs the captain had taken with the pilot. Even though the breakfast spread is eclectic at best, it still gradually disappears all the same. When the amount of food dwindles dangerously, Yunho takes the bullet and makes their prisoner his tray. Jongho pesters San to teach him more about signing, and Wooyoung makes a move to follow the two.

 

“Wooyoung, with me,” Hongjoong commands.

 

Wooyoung raises his eyebrows curiously. Joong can see the slight pout in the other’s lips, but he doesn’t really care. Wooyoung’ll get over it.

 

“Okay,” Wooyoung answers. He joins Hongjoong’s side, and the captain starts leading them toward the stairs. “What is it, captain?”

 

“I wanna check on the Compass and make sure we’re still headed on the right trajectory.”

 

“Right,” The other responds. Joong can tell Wooyoung wants to say “why do you need me for that?”.

 

“And also,” Hongjoong lowers his voice, glancing over his shoulder. The coast is clear - Yunho’s heading toward the bottom level, and the other two are already gone. “I wanted to ask you about San?”

 

That piques Wooyoung’s interest, “Um, what about him?”

 

The pair step into the bridge, and Hongjoong heads straight to the navigation console. Pretty as ever, the Compass sits poised on top of the console, it’s projection mapping out the stars beyond. A single beacon blinks in and out of visibility, its coordinates constantly shifting and shuffling.

 

Hongjoong sighs in relief when he sees that they are, in fact, still going the right way. Though they don’t know their destination yet, he has faith that they will when the time is right. Wherever they end up, it can’t be worse than Ubureru, he thinks. He prays that they succeed in having at least that much luck. The bar is low, but it’s there. 

 

“How is San doing?” Hongjoong asks as he taps the Compass’s glass dome cautiously.

 

“Huh?” Wooyoung sounds confused, “What am I, his keeper?”

 

That answer takes Hongjoong by surprise. He turns his attention away from his precious Compass to look Wooyoung up and down. Of all things he looks  _ defensive _ . The younger one is sort of tense, shoulders hiked up and arms crossed in front of his body. His brow is furrowed and, yeah, he looks a bit annoyed - but that’s not exactly it. Not all of it, anyways. As fun as Hongjoong finds dissecting the other’s body language, he prefers to be more direct.

 

“No. You just seem, uh- close. Why do you look offended?” The captain asks.

 

“Oh- I- I’m not,” Wooyoung relaxes a little - just a little. “I just think it’s weird you’d ask me and not him.”

 

“You two seem close,” Joong shrugs. “And anyways he doesn’t seem like the type to let on if he’s not feeling well.”

 

“He’s not,” Wooyoung says. Hongjoong raises his eyebrows at the other’s change of tune, but he doesn’t say anything. “I- I mean that’s the impression I get, anyways,” The younger of the two clarifies.

 

“Right. I just- I thought if I got you away from him, you’d be a little more honest.”

 

“About what?”

 

The captain narrows his eyes suspiciously, “About how you think he’s doing. What did you think I meant?”

 

“Nothing,” Wooyoung shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Hongjoong sighs, “Geez. I’m sorry I asked.” He starts fiddling with the Compass again, willing it to give him steady coordinates.

 

“No, no, it’s fine you’re concerned, I just- I’m really not actually that good with people,” Wooyoung admits. He sounds pained in doing so. “I understand my undeniable sex appeal and captivating charms might make you think otherwise, but… People aren’t actually my forte.”

 

“You said you used to bartend- and sell information. How did you do that if you’re bad at people?”

 

“Customer service is different, okay. That stuff is all fake. You just gotta know what people want. It can be pretty compliments, a good tip or a strong drink. It’s different when people are just trying to buy or sell.”

 

“Buy or sell what?” The captain quips.

 

“Ha  _ ha _ . I could never do that line of work. I’m not friendly enough- of course, it’s not for lack of people  _ trying _ .”

 

Hongjoong laughs at that, “Well, we learn something new every day, don’t we?” He squints at all the little bits and bobs missing from his Compass. “So, what, Choi San is a bit harder for you to figure out than most? You seemed pretty fine with us.”

 

“Our circumstances of meeting were different.”

 

“Fair,” The captain concedes. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to keep an eye out for him, but-“

 

“Keep an eye out for him,” Wooyoung completes the sentence. “I got it.”

 

Hongjoong tears his eyes off of the Compass to look Wooyoung earnestly in the eye, “Look, I get that it can be a lot of pressure for someone to rely on you, but- like- San feels comfortable with you. I just- I want his transition to be easy as possible.”

 

“Aw, look at you, all soft and stuff,” The younger jokes.

 

“Shut up,” Hongjoong scrunches his nose. He neglects to comment on the fact that Wooyoung very readily shifted the focus away from himself. He opts not to push the issue. For now. If he’s gonna have to watch the other basically swoon for the foreseeable future, he might have to reconsider, though. He returns his attention to the Compass again. “What do you think the chances are we can stabilize this before we enter the next sector?”

 

Wooyoung shrugs, “You try turning it on and off again?”

 

“Hm. You’re  _ hilarious _ ,” Joong rolls his eyes. “But seriously, I was hoping it would stabilize by now…”

 

The other taps it experimentally, his nail clinking against the glass softly, “It probably needs some of these wacky parts it’s missing to regain full functionality.”

 

Hongjoong pouts his lips, “I hate that you’re probably right.”

 

“Almost definitely right,” Wooyoung corrects him.

 

“Well, maybe we can land in a sector with civilization and find… Something.”

 

“Oh, god- that’d be amazing,” The younger sighs, “Civilization. Somewhere with shops. And clothes.”

 

“What? You don’t enjoy our communal nudity days while we wait for our clothes to wash?”

 

“No, no. I  _ loved  _ walking into the living room and getting a front row seat to the Yunho show.”

 

“Mm. That tail is cute, though, isn’t it?”

 

“ _ God _ I want to touch it.”

 

“Weirdo,” Joong laughs.

 

_ “Click-clack- beep-chirrup!” _ Suddenly, the Compass comes to life. It’s map display blinks rapidly, the brightness teeter tottering between barely there and almost blinding. The pair cower away from the strange device, watching in awe as it seems to be doing. Well, something. They don’t know what. Map lines mix, meld, tangle and overlap, and the blinking beacon dances around the display, flitting around like a gnat.

 

“Wh- What did you do?” Wooyoung asks, mildly terrified.

 

“What did  _ I _ do?! What did you do?” Hongjoong fires back. Soft whistling sounds out from the thing as it draws nonsensical lines across the projected starscape.

 

“W-well do something!”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I dunno! It’s your Compass.”

 

“Hey, we’re all on this ship together,” Hongjoong eyes the thing wearily. Lights flash, and more little sounds trickle out from the antique brass of the base. He tries to follow the beacon - the one they’re supposed to be heading toward - but the tiny point of light dances nonsensically. It’s like trying to watch a bug zip around.

 

“Captain I’m scared,” Wooyoung whimpers. 

 

“Wh- It’s not gonna explode!” Hongjoong says. “Probably.”

 

“Probably? This thing is ancient. Who knows what kind of faulty wiring there could be in there.”

 

_ “Whirr… Whirr…” _

 

“Who knows if there’s even any wiring at all…” Hongjoong mutters. In all honesty, he has no idea what the inner workings of the Compass are. There are pieces missing, yes, but what they link into he doesn’t know. Nothing sticks out, and even through the myriad little holes and boo-boos in the thing, he can’t make out anything discernible as a wire. Before he can inspect any closer, the soft glow of the projection swells into something almost blinding.

 

_ “Zzz-zzt- snap!!” _

 

The loud, staticy snap prompts both Wooyoung and Hongjoong to duck. It sounds like a stray bolt of electricity discharging, and neither wants to be in the way of that. However, following the flash of light and the threatening sound there is… Nothing. 

 

Hongjoong’s eyes hesitantly flutter open, and he rises from his recoiled, cowering position against the floor of the bridge. He cautiously approaches the nav console and inspects the Compass’s new projection.

 

For the first time in days, the Compass has stabilized.

 

“Shitting christ,” Wooyoung hisses as he hoists himself onto his feet. “What happened?”

 

“I dunno, but… It looks like we’ve got a stable image,” The captain says. “Quick- quick- get these coordinates in-” He waves at the other frantically, “-before this gets lost.”

 

“Y-yes, sir,” Wooyoung does as he’s told, hopping into one of the pilot’s seats to punch in the coordinates. Hongjoong stares at the projection all the while, as if it’ll disappear the second he blinks. “Got it, sir.” The younger says.

 

“Cool,” Joong replies. “Is it in the same sector that we’ve been heading toward?”

 

“Yup! Dead center actually. Lemme put the coords into the database search. Maybe this time something useful will come up…” Wooyoung trails off, his voice giving way to the telltale clacking of fingers against a keyboard.

 

ATEEZ’s robotic voice rings out from the console, “Course set to: Venus. Approximate distance: fifteen-thousand clicks. At current velocity, arrival will be in approximately sixteen hours.”

 

“Venus?” Hongjoong disbelieves what he’s just heard.

 

“Venus,” Wooyoung repeats flatly.

 

“Just… Just Venus?”

 

“Yes, just Venus.”

 

“Like- No- no alphanumeric ID? No weird caveats or-” The captian shakes his head, bewildered. “-just Venus?”

 

“I don’t think our ship is lying,” Wooyoung swivels his chair so he can face Hongjoong and shrugs. “You ever heard of it? Venus, I mean.”

 

“W-well, I mean, yeah. I know the name from ancient times, but after the interstellar expansion, well- it’s inhospitable. Probably turned to dust in the old solar system by now- don’t you think?”

 

“I bet whoever settled there just decided to call it Venus. For some fucking reason- probably a stupid one at that. It’s definitely a place.”

 

“Like- I’d heard about there being other Venuses, but I just assumed- I dunno- I guess it’s weird to just see a planet with a singular name,” Joong shrugs sheepishly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Even though he doesn’t feel judgment from Wooyoung per se, he can’t help feeling a little ignorant not realizing it. 

 

As if sensing his shame, Wooyoung tries to smooth his captain’s mood a bit, “Venus isn’t exactly a major hotspot. It’s probably not on a lot of people’s radars.”

 

Joong groans, “Don’t tell me it’s uninhabited.”

 

“Well, the good news is, it isn’t!” Wooyoung points to the projected database entry above the pilot’s console. “It looks like there’s-” He pauses to scan the text, “-about seven-hundred million people on the planet.”

 

“Seven-hundred million? That’s not a lot.”

 

“No, it isn’t, but they do it on purpose. Um- Lemme read here-” Wooyoung clears his throat dramatically, “-Venus is a cooperative independent planet orbited by two moons and sustained by a single sun. Population is approximately seven-hundred million - as of the 3910 voluntary census submission. Terrain - varies, dominated by temperate climates with a variety of greenery, two arctic poles, and a wide tropical division band.”

 

“Voluntary census?” Hongjoong asks, transparently baffled.

 

“Uh- Basically, the ‘cooperative’ bit? That’s code for they make nice with the Coalition.”

 

“But they’re still independent?”

 

“Guess they came to some type of terms,” The younger gives the captain another shrug. “Like hell if I know. Like I said they are… Ah, here we go-” He glances at the text again. “-An isolationist state with stringent regulations regarding who is allowed visitation. Most recent information from- from 3910 - god that’s, like, forever ago - they are not accepting applications for citizenship. Special visas are available through Coalition blah, blah, blah…” 

 

“So, what I’m getting is they don’t like visitors,” Hongjoong frowns.

 

“Right,” The other nods. “That’s consistent with what I’ve heard on the job, but…” He trails off as he reads more of the GC’s database entry. “Yeah, that’s about right,” He mutters.

 

“What is? Are they hostile?” The captain inquires worriedly.

 

“Okay, I’m just gonna give you the Wooyoung version of this,” He clasps his hands in his lap loosely and leans forward. “Venus is a planet of snobs. My guess is that whenever the hell it got colonized, somehow, some way, they managed to keep it exclusive. Like- like think of it as an all inclusive resort for the richest of the rich.”

 

“Wait- really?” Hongjoong cringes just imagining it. “How the hell do they support their supposed elite without a working class?”

 

“They give out work visas to people who can get them. Usually short-term contracts- anywhere from six months to a decade. Only hire hot people, too, from what I’ve heard,” Wooyoung scoffs.    
“Y’know, because why make their cream of the crop natives do work, right? It’s actually a pretty popular spot to try and get work. The planet’s nice- like,  _ nice  _ nice. They’ve got all kind of restrictions to keep the environment super healthy, and I hear that everything is squeaky clean. Of course, not a lot of people get in. I used to know a guy who- who helped people… Arrange papers to get onto Venus for work.”

 

“Why did you pause before saying arrange?” The captain quirks an eyebrow.

 

“I- No reason-”

 

“Your guy did it illegally, didn’t he?”

 

Wooyoung throws his hands up, and his eyes flit away from the other’s, “I mean, I said I knew the guy. Not that I knew him well-”

 

“Okay, that’s- that’s not even relevant, forget I said anything.”

 

“No, you forget I said anything.”

 

“It’s already forgotten,” Joong assures him.

 

Wooyoung grins,“Good.”

 

“Good,” The captain repeats.

 

“Great.”

 

“Spectacular.”

“Splendiforous.”

 

Hongjoong purses his lips, “I- I don’t think that’s a real word, but admittedly my vocabulary isn’t the best, so… You win this one.”

 

Wooyoung smirks, satisfied, and continues his spiel, “Maybe we can get you a word of the day calendar while we’re down there. Except, we’d need papers…” His brows knit together. “Shit.”

 

“Okay,” Hongjoong leans back against the nearest wall and strokes his chin in thought, “Let’s- let’s take that element out of the equation. Pretend we get in, no questions asked-”

 

“That’s not likely.”

 

“-anways. We get down there. What do you think… What do you think we look for? Like- what is this-” Joong nods to the Compass, “-trying to take us to?”

 

Wooyoung presses his lips together. Momentarily, a glint of skepticism crosses his eyes. However, whether out of courtesy, faith, or a disinclination from pissing of the captain, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he furrows his brows together and gives the thing a good, hard look - like it’ll tell him all the answers if he asks nice enough. He studies the peculiar device for some time, and the only sound echoing through the bridge is the gentle hum of the engine.

 

“This is… An old piece of tech, but it’s still technology, right?” He puts out the rhetorical to break the silence.

 

“Right. Uh- of course.”

 

“Like- it’s archaic - maybe even arcane, but it still has to work, right? It needs the proper… Pieces, the proper software and hardware- it’s all gotta work together,” Wooyoung brings his hands in front of himself and makes a gesture as if he’s piecing together two halves.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“When- when a machine or, really, anything can’t work, what does it do?”

 

“Isn’t it considered broken at that point?” The captain posits more out of courtesy than insistent belief. He’s curious what the other’s getting at, and he knows as well as anyone else that sometimes just having someone encourage your rambling helps immensely.

 

“Well- Yes- maybe, but!” Wooyoung holds a finger up as if he’s about to announce some revelation, “Any piece of technology made even- even before the stellar migration is programmed to update itself. It’ll tell you intuitively when it doesn’t have all the right pieces and parts- like- it’ll say it’s not compatible, needs new drivers.”

 

“Right.”

 

“So- So what if the Compass is- it’s unstable, but it’s trying to- to update itself? Usually machines and stuff- they’ll direct you to where you need to go to get what you need. I mean- mind you, it’s usually, like, a server, but-” The younger of them stands up and walks over to the nav console again, walking around the Compass. “What if the Compass - it’s a map after all - is trying to update itself - to get all the necessary parts to work - by leading us there?”

 

There it is. That spark of understanding, the light turning on. Hongjoong’s face dawns with realization, and he joins Wooyoung’s side at the console, gasping in awe at the strange mechanism before them.

 

“It’s leading us to what it needs,” Hongjoong’s lips fall open in amazement.

 

“At least, it’s trying to,” Wooyoung corrects. “Not sure we needed to get almost killed by crazy siren people.”

 

“Yeah, but-” The captain’s lips crack into a smile, “-we met San.”

 

“Okay- Well, that’s- that’s got nothing to do with this,” Wooyoung sputters, his ears tinting scarlet again. He quickly tries to recover, ”This is leading us to Venus - pretty damn convincingly, too. And- and Venus is not like Ubureru. I know I described it as a resort, but it’s more than that. From what I’ve heard, the technology there is insane. Like- mind-blowing stuff in every sector. People living to well over a hundred because of their medicine, androids that you’d mistake for human - that kind of thing. I mean, it’s all hearsay, but I feel like…” His eyes drift to the projected display again. “If there’s something we need for the Compass - even if it’s old tech - Venus is definitely the place to look.”

 

“So then we just have to worry about getting in,” Hongjoong’s lips pout unconsciously as he thinks.

 

“Well,” Wooyoung’s tone escalates to almost a squeak, and when the captain looks at him, he sees sheepishness all over his face.

 

“What? Don’t tell me you can get in contact with your guy from out here,” Hongjoong jokes.

 

“ _ Well. _ ”

 

Joong’s smirk crumbles away, “You- you’re the ‘guy’ aren’t you?”

 

“I- I  _ might’ve _ picked up a  _ few  _ tricks from him throughout the duration of our relationship. Our- uh- working relationship.”

 

“I- uh-” Hongjoong raises a finger, not sure if he wants to chastise the other or make fun of him. “I’m- you know what, I’m not gonna touch that. I am not gonna touch that.”

 

“Good call. Thank you- that’s a- it’s a good call-”

 

“Yeah, just, um-”

 

“Do you want the papers or not?” 

 

“Depends, are we gonna get killed if they figure out they’re phony?”

 

“No, actually!” A giddy smile blossom’s on the other’s face - like not getting killed on sight is some fantastic blessing. “We’ll get turned away. If we try to re-enter after getting turned away,  _ then  _ we get killed.”

 

Hongjoong shrugs and nods, “I can deal with that. So what do you need?”

 

“Well, paper, um-” Wooyoung starts rambling, looking down in thought, “A printer- I think the desks in the bedroom are equipped- oh, and, um… Luzidium- just a bit, watered down. The official Venusian seal has to be stamped with luzidium because they’re bougie fucks. I could probably drain a battery…”

 

“Why don’t you get on it,” Hongjoong decides he doesn’t need to hear the other babbling about draining batteries and ‘bougie fucks’. “I’ll let the crew know where we’re headed and when. Make sure everyone knows to be clothed.”

 

“Yeah they’re sticklers for clothes. Clothes, manners, decency...”

 

“Well, we all have at least one of those things.”

 

“Right,” For a quick second, immense concern crosses Wooyoung’s face, but he shakes it away. “Right- Well, I’m gonna get started.”

 

“Okay. Sixteen hours!” Hongjoong calls after the other to remind him as he bounds off. 

  
When Wooyoung’s gone, he crosses over to the pilot’s console and turns on the intercom. Yunho’s the one who’s gotten to use it the most, and Hongjoong feels like that’s hardly fair! He’s the captain after all. A shameless grin on his face, Hongjoong addresses his crew:

 

“Hey everyone. This is your captain speaking-” For some reason, saying that makes him way too giddy. “-we’ve set course for Venus and we’ll be in the vicinity in… Oh, approximately sixteen hours according to the nav. Make sure you’re decent, they’ve got atmospheric patrol. I know sixteen hours from now is pretty early for our clocks, but try to be up and ready before we hit the border. I’d recommend washing your clothes if you haven’t already and, please for the love of god, do not go into any common areas naked.”

 

“Click.”

 

The captain grins to himself, entirely too appeased with how official he’d just sounded (save for the mention of nudity). Satisfied, the captain leaves the bridge and heads toward the cargo bay. They don’t have much in terms of money (that is to say, they have none at all), but he’s sure there’s something tucked away in the ship that they can trade for parts or money. 

 

If he said he wasn’t nervous, he’d be lying. Few things make Hongjoong more anxious than the thought of rubbing elbows with the “upper-class”. He himself had never really identified with, well, any sort of class at all. Not the upper, middle, lower-middle, or even what many considered the lower class. His home planet was populated almost exclusively by what one might describe as the “barely-getting-by, starving class”. The “trying their damndest” class. Or, in his own private, romantic mind: the dreaming class. 

 

He’s not sure he’ll know how to act around people who, apparently, are so damn rich and exclusive that they holed up on their own planet. God knows what kind of strange manners and decorum the weirdos on Venus abide by. Joong just prays that he can keep the crew enough in line that they don’t royally piss someone off and get challenged to a duel or something. (That sounds like a rich people thing - duels.)

 

Hongjoong snickers. He can’t believe the thought just crossed his mind, but it did. He almost despises that it did, but it’s kind of hilarious. His treacherous brain dared to ask the rhetorical question:

 

You know who’d  _ love  _ a place like Venus?

 

He smiles to himself, knowing damn well who would.

 

* * *

“Wh- We’re going to Venus?!” Officer Park gapes in disbelief when the announcement finishes.

 

Yunho chuckles and shrugs, “I guess. Well, technically  _ we  _ are going to Venus. You’re staying on the ship.”

 

“Wh- No. No, no you can’t- I mean you can’t-” He shakes his head insistently, ignoring the half-eaten bowl of rice and eel on his tray. “You don’t just ride up to Venus and land. It- it doesn’t work that way.”

 

Yunho shrugs again. It’s kind of funny, seeing the PO unwound by the mention of the planet Venus. Yunho had never heard of it. He swears he remembers the name, but that’s about it. In all honesty, he doesn’t really care where he is as long as he’s with his friends and they’re safe. Apparently, the Petty Officer does care. A lot.

 

The humecanis almost asks why the prisoner is so worked up about it. He seems shocked but not necessarily afraid. That’s a good sign, Yunho thinks. He opts not to ask anything, though. He’s the first to admit that he’s not exactly the most richly educated individual in the universe. But he’s not gonna admit that in front of their prisoner. The guy’s sort of a twat, and if he sees any opening to be condescending or rude, he’ll take it.

 

“The captain said Venus, so we’re going to Venus,” Yunho responds matter of factly. He chides himself. He shouldn’t  _ talk _ to that guy - there’s no reason to indulge him. Still, it conflicts with the canis’s nature to just stand in silence when there’s another person around. He actually likes talking to people and spending time with them.

 

“ _ Really _ ?” Seonghwa asks, and there it is - that tone. The sharp upturn of voice that irritatingly signals his condescension. “ _ You’re _ going to  _ Venus _ \- perhaps the most exclusive planet in the universe?”

 

“Yeah,” Yunho says matter-of-factly.

 

“And how do you expect to actually get there?”

 

“Well, unless you can think of a better way, we’re probably gonna get there on a spaceship. You know, like, the one we’re on,” Yunho snarks back. See, he thinks, two can play at that game!

 

The blond rolls his eyes so dramatically he looks possessed, “Right. Of course. You’ll charm your way past atmospheric security. I’m sure they’ll ignore  _ all  _ of their carefully placed ordinances when they see just how  _ adorable  _ you are.”

 

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” Yunho can’t help it - his tail wags.

 

“You’re certainly special,” The prisoner responds dryly. 

 

“Thank you!” The canis beams. He knows it’s sarcasm, but he chooses to ignore it. Mostly because he’s almost certain that it pisses off the petty officer more.

 

Seonghwa grumbles - and he probably thinks it’s to himself - but the canis’s keen hearing picks it up clearly. 

 

In a low voice, pouting to himself, the petty officer complains, “Fucking vagrants think they’re going to Venus. Like I haven’t tried to get a tourist visa for the  _ past four years _ . One of the most beautiful planets in the fucking universe and these idiots think they’re gonna see it? God- if they do, I’m gonna kill myself. All the shining palaces would be wasted on them… Such a fucking waste…”

 

Yunho raises his eyebrows in surprise. The petty officer doesn’t swear much, and the transparent ranting is a far departure from his arctic exterior. Yunho opts not to say anything, though. He likes to employ his weapons strategically, and if he reveals that he can hear a lot better than Seonghwa thinks, the PO will probably never talk around him again.

 

“Behave and maybe we’ll get you a souvenir,” Yunho jabs. It’s vague enough to not let on that he’d heard the other but pointed enough that it causes alarm.

 

Seonghwa looks at the canis with wide eyes, the question clearly brewing behind his eyes: did he hear? He doesn’t ask it, though. Instead he frowns, focusing more on finishing his meal quickly. Yunho observes, just as content to stay quiet as the other. He wonders what kind of place Venus is to make Petty Officer Park wanna go there so bad. 

 

Oh well, he thinks. Unlike the guy locked in the cell, he’ll actually get to find out first hand.

 

* * *

“Approaching Venus orbital locale,” ATEEZ’s computer announces softly across the bridge. Sixteen hours later, on the dot. It’s about five A.M. ship time, and it looks to be even earlier on the hemisphere they’re facing. The shadows of night still stretch across the planet. Only a few rays of light tickle the very edge of the longitudinal pole. By the time they land - depending on where they end up - it ought to be close to sunrise.

 

Hongjoong leans against the pilot’s chair occupied by Yunho as he steers the ship closer. Just like he’d instructed, everyone rose early, donning clean clothes and stomachs recently filled with breakfast. Though it’s not customary, the entire crew is on the bridge. Everyone was eager to check out the famed “Venus” - see if it lived up to all the hype. So far, it’s hard to tell.

 

From the distance, Venus looks like any other normal terraformed planet. There’s verdant continents and a blue ocean. Joong notes that their ocean looks more purple than blue, but that’s hardly relevant. More noteworthy than Venus itself is what’s around it. Wrapped around the entire planet is a ring of conjoined ships - the atmospheric patrol station. Across the security barrier there are a few gates, and jutting out from them are queues of ships. If Hongjoong had to guess, there’s an invisible field, too. The kind that roasts anyone trying to pass through without the proper permissions. 

 

“Do you think it matters where we go in?” Hongjoong asks Wooyoung. He considers Wooyoung his personal expert on the subject of Venus. Mostly because he’s the only one besides Jongho who’d heard of it before. And he’s actually talked to people who have been there.

 

“Uh- It shouldn’t,” Wooyoung leans forward from his spot in the other pilot’s chair, “This is weird, though. I dunno why there’s so many ships coming in. I- I’ve never heard of it being so crowded.” He glances across the lines of ships.

 

“Maybe they’ve loosened up their border patrols after all these years,” Jongho posits. “I mean- isn’t the GC intel old?”

 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out,” The captain shrugs. He points to the line that looks the shortest, and Yunho carefully steers them there. “You got the paper ready?” He asks Wooyoung. The other nods, fishing it out from his jacket and slapping it onto the console. 

 

It looks convincing. The language is pedantic to the point of excessiveness, and the phony luzidium seal glows iridescently when the light hits it. Hongjoong figures it’ll pass. He doesn’t let himself entertain the idea of it not passing. That kind of negativity is what results in self-fulfilling prophecies of bad things happening to them. The  _ last  _ thing ATEEZ needs is  _ more  _ bad things happening to them. Nope, he convinces himself, it’s gonna work. Because it has to.

 

San grips the back of Wooyoung’s chair, bouncing excitedly, “I’ve never been to another planet before! This is so cool. There’s so many ships. They all look so different, too. I’ve seen pictures, but...” His voice peters out, giving way to an awestruck expression of wonder.

 

It’s cute.

 

The rest of the crew rattles off whatever little factoids they can to inform the siren. He’s newer to this than all the rest of them, and he’s got a lot to learn. They pass most of the queue time that way until they’re one ship away from the dreaded checkpoint. Between them and the outer space of Venus stands a gate of malignant looking lasers. The captain can only imagine what happens to those who are stupid enough to try and pass through them.

 

Hongjoong gulps nervously. Anxiety darts restlessly between his gut and chest like a trapped creature. He holds onto composure when Yunho slowly pulls the ship up. For a minute, nothing happens. It’s dead silent.

 

That does nothing for the captain’s nerves.

 

Worry takes root in his heart, and it spreads like thorny vines, prickling the insides of his chest and even the surface of his skin. A flash of light dazzles everyone in the bridge for a moment. As he blinks the blotches of color out of his vision, Hongjoong realizes it’s not just a flash of light. It’s a scanning beam, and its gleaming trajectory runs down the ship with a low buzzing sound.

 

“Incoming call!” The ship alerts them. The sudden noise makes at least half of them jump.

 

Yunho hastily answers it, and a video feed projection pops up in front of the pilot console. 

 

Inside the small rectangle, a rather bored gentleman in a pristine looking white uniform sits. He appears just about as thrilled to be working border patrol as the ATEEZ crew is about having to go through it.

 

“Combat freighter class Rattlesnake, identifier ATEEZ,” The patrol agent speaks like he’s reading off of a screen, “Any Venusian citizens present?”

 

For a second, the five exchange confused looks. Like:  _ are there _ any Venusian citizens present? It takes Hongjoong a few seconds to realize that, really, they’re all looking at  _ him _ . He’s the captain, so he’s gotta answer the calls - so their faces say. Joong knows this. He was ready for this. He had a plan, sort of. Except, when actually faced with the reality - even though the agent strikes him as more  _ bored  _ than anything - it’s a lot more daunting than he’d thought.

 

Hongjoong answers, hoping he doesn’t sound as uneasy as he feels, “No, sir.” He pronounces in his best fake-confident tone.

 

The agent across the feed glances up from his screen and actually looks at the squad in the bridge. Joong freezes - like if he’s not moving, the guy won’t actually be able to see him. Unfortunately, as it turns out, this man is not a reptilian hybrid, and he does, in fact, see them. All of them. In their thrown together, mismatched (albeit clean) clothes. The patrol agent even squints his eyes and leans closer to his own display.

 

“Wait a minute…” He murmurs curiously.

 

Joong’s palms clam up with sweat, and the wrings them behind his back. The rest of the ATEEZ crew follows suit, doing their best statue impressions in tense silence.

 

“You guys look like entertainers- are you guys entertainers?” The agent’s tone alleviates. 

 

Hongjoong practically heaves out a sigh of relief, but they’re not out of the water yet, “Yes.” He improvises. They’d originally come up with a story for being merchants, but Venusian orbital security gets what they want. If they want to call ATEEZ entertainers, then god damn, they’ll be entertainers. “Yes we are,” The captain repeats with more confidence.

 

Their agent actually grins, “You must be here for the wedding!” 

 

The captain catches a few puzzled glances shooting across the bridge, but he ignores them, focusing on sweet talking the agent, “Isn’t that what everyone’s here for?” He gestures out to the queues of ships at the gates beyond.

 

“You’re tellin’ me!” The agent chuckles, “This is the busiest I’ve seen this place in over a decade. The Neith royal family is sparing no expense for the proceedings, that’s for certain. Now, lemme just see my list here…”

 

They have a list? 

 

_ Why  _ do they have a list?

 

Why is  _ nothing  _ easy?

 

Hongjoong tenses up again, readying a slew of excuses and dismissals. He even crosses his fingers behind his back, like it’ll deign some strange karmic luck unto him and his crew.

 

“Ah-! You know what, here it is!” The agent chirps jovially. The captain practically blurts out the “Really?!” of disbelief sitting on the tip of his tongue. He prudently doesn’t and waits for the agent to elaborate. “I see the confusion here. They had you put down as ‘ITZY’- can you  _ believe  _ that?” He shakes his head. “You know that’s the  _ third  _ misspelling in the past hour. Seriously- What are they  _ doing  _ down there?”

 

“Ha!” Hongjoong chokes out a forced laugh. Then another and another - enough to show courtesy and humor and definitely  _ not  _ be sketchy. “Funny, that’s- You know we get that a lot, don’t we fellas?” He turns to the others.

 

“Wha-” “Mhm.” “Oh- Y-yeah.” “ITZY… ATEEZ, it’s easy to mix up.” “Mhm.” “Yeah, definitely, yeah-”

 

“Alright, well I imagine you guys have a lot of setting up to do,” The agent says. “You’re good to go. Enjoy Venus! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity you guys have. Not only to see the planet- but to be granted the privilege of performing for the royal family of Neith!”

 

“We feel so, so blessed,” Hongjoong says, slapping on the biggest fake smile he can muster. “Thank you.” 

 

“You all enjoy the wedding! Put on a good show for the royal family!” “Click.” The agent hangs up promptly.

 

_ “Beep-beep!” _ With the high, chirping beep noise, the laser gate flickers off. No sooner than they do, Yunho sends ATEEZ through the fastest he can without being suspicious.

 

The bridge remains absolutely mute for the following minutes. Everyone stays paralyzed with fear, like the security guard will somehow hear them if they say or do something suspicious. It isn’t until they’re halfway between the checkpoint and Venus’s cloudy atmosphere that someone speaks. 

 

“Did… That just happen?” Jongho squeaks out timidly. “Did we just-”

 

“Yeah, I think we did,” Wooyoung finishes the thought, doubt dripping from his tone. “I think we just did.”

 

“That was- it was easy,” Yunho remarks. “Was it- was it supposed to be that easy?”

 

“They didn’t even ask for the papers,” Wooyoung utters.

 

Hongjoong clears his throat in an attempt to command the attention of his crew,“I, uh, I guess we have to go, um, where did that guy say that wedding thing is?”

 

“Neith, I think,” San pipes up.

 

“Right. Neith. Um- Yunho,” The captain points out the bridge to the other ships ahead of them. “Follow those ships. I’m guessing they’re all heading to Neith. If we don’t head there too, we’ll look suspicious.”

 

“What do you think Neith is?” The humecanis asks, nudging the ship closer to the others entering the atmosphere.

 

“They mentioned a royal family,” Jongho says. “Which implies these people have sovereignty over something. It could be a city-state or a province, but given the amount of people coming in from everywhere, I’m guessing it’s more than that.”

 

“Like a country?” 

 

“Yeah. A big one at that. The kind that covers almost an entire continent,” Jongho says. “My guess is we’re gonna end up in the capital city.”

 

“I don’t know Neith by name,” Wooyoung mentions, “But I’ve heard about what the cities are like.  _ Big  _ buildings- like huge towers made of glass and all kinds of precious metals. People even say the roads are paved in gold- of course, that’s extreme. I wouldn’t be surprised if we  _ see  _ a lot of it, though. There’s lots of luxury markets and rare goods, but they have normal bazaars, too.”

 

“Where the hell do the workers live if the cities are so lavish, though? Like the common people?” Hongjoong asks.

 

Wooyoung shrugs, “They’re put up in dormitories on the outskirts and ride public transit in. At least that’s what I’ve heard. Like I’ve said before, it’s a pretty good deal. Enough to have people clamoring to get in. Of course, we won’t have to worry about that. We’re guests.”

 

“We’re entertainers,” Jongho corrects the other frankly. “At some point, someone’s gonna expect us to entertain. What are we gonna do then?”

 

“Eh, we’ll figure it out,” Hongjoong waves dismissively. “I mean- look at all these ships coming in. There’s gotta be thousands of random people swarming the city- palace- whatever. Point is, eight missing performers out of possibly hundreds isn’t gonna rustle any feathers.”

 

“If you say so, captain,” The youngest concedes. He’s probably got the least to worry about out of all of them. Jongho is naturally well-mannered and clean-cut. If worst comes to worst, he can sing to convince people he’s actually an entertainer, too. 

 

The others, well… San has a dignified air about him, but Joong has a feeling he’s gonna gawk a lot. Maybe that won’t seem too out of place - given that there’s a lot of guests and whatnot. Then there’s Wooyoung who looks significantly less dignified. It’s not that he looks like a straight up thug. He just looks like trouble. Maybe it’s his tendency to bite his lip or the roguish air he has about him. Wooyoung possesses a quality of handsomeness that alerts onlookers: “this guy is up to no good”. That may not be the truth, but a first impression is enough to set the prim and proper types on edge.

 

Then there’s Yunho. Lovable, cheery Yunho. Just as affable as he is impossible to ignore, the canis will probably get lots of sideways glances. He draws attention even in colonies swimming with diversity. On Venus? He doesn’t stand a chance. Hongjoong hopes they write him off as just one of the many miscellaneous workers in town. The problem is, he’s friendly, too. He smiles real cute-like, and his tail wags. It’s straight-up magnetic, yielding the kind of attractive force sunlight does after a long, cloudy winter.

 

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) there’s not a lot of time to be nervous.

 

The minutes tick by almost too quickly, and soon they pass through the outer layers of Venus’s atmosphere. They follow the course predicated by the dozens who’d been in line before them. Rolling hills of green and manicured cities cover the continent beneath them. Just as Hongjoong had thought, their sea looked to be a deep violet as opposed to the typical blue. He’s sure there’s some scientific explanation for that, but after his last experience with the ocean, he’s hesitant to even look at a large body of water at all. The crew coos and awes as ATEEZ lowers closer to the continent’s surface. 

 

There’s a lot of lush, tall greenery jutting out of the rolling hills. From up above, mindfully placed roads wind and weave around the terrain thoughtfully. The highways glimmer in the low light of dawn, and Hongjoong starts thinking that maybe there’s something to the whole “streets paved with gold” rumor. As ATEEZ advances, more and more manmade structures peek out from the horizon. They start catching sight of tall towers in the distance as the myriad winding roads start to converge like blood vessels running to the core.

 

“Whoa…” Yunho gasps. “I think we found out where the royal wedding’s gonna be.” He points straight ahead of them, and every single eye in the bridge follows the tip of his finger.

 

“Holy shit.” “Is that a- a castle?” “What the…” “Seriously?”

 

Perhaps the most noticeable thing about the Palace of Neith is its towers. There are two of them, each sitting at opposite ends of the estate. That is: two immense, skyscraping towers that stretch so high above the ground that what few clouds the sky has obscure their peaks. They glitter in the morning sun, a combination of pearlescent metal with intricate, gold carvings along the corners and around what appear to be windows. Hongjoong is almost certain they’d made the structure overly gigantic just so, no matter where a person is at, they can  _ always  _ see the castle. 

 

ATEEZ sails closer, and soon they can make out more of the vast estate belonging to the Neith nobility. Unsurprisingly, a high wall surrounds the grounds, separating it from the grid of city blocks surrounding it. Inside there’s what appears to be two smaller castles on either side of one massive one. Each is decorated similarly to the exemplary towers - a pearlesque, shiny exterior with fiddly, gold detailing. Even from far away, the captain can make out a precise arrangement of hedges in a no doubt pristine garden. If he had to guess, Hongjoong would say the estate by itself is about sixty square kilometers - give or take. Sixty square kilometers of painstakingly maintained, pretentious perfection. 

 

Joong laughs beside himself - Petty Officer Prettyboy really  _ is  _ missing out.

 

ATEEZ gradually lowers toward the ground, slowing down as they (probably) approach a designated docking lot. 

 

“Everything is so- so shiny,” San actually squints as a nearby building reflects a ray of sunlight into the bridge. 

 

Jongho leans closer to the window, glancing at the people beneath, “Even the people look shiny,” He notes. It’s true. Even from up above Hongjoong catches lustrous bits and bobs twinkling off of the ant-like forms scuttling about on the sidewalks.

 

“Well,” Hongjoong speaks up, trying to temper his nerves a bit, “Welcome to Venus.”

 

* * *

 

By the time ATEEZ docks (in ITZY’s designated spot), the sun’s finished it’s lazy climb from beneath the horizon. Gentle warmth radiates across the capital city of Neith, bathing all in a light that promises to triple in intensity by the afternoon. Dock workers scurry around fervently with their tablets and pens. It seems like they’re Venus’s last line of defense - one last check and balance before people are actually allowed in the city. The bookish types speak sternly and quickly before promptly moving onto the next person. Ships continuously populate the docking lot, coming in droves, and the people of Venus definitely don’t seem like they want to dally in moving everyone along. In an orderly fashion, of course.

 

“With… Ah- Yes, here it is,” The lanky worker who’d been sent to check on ATEEZ mutterse. “ATEEZ!” He calls off, tapping something on his tablet. “Yes- Here it is. The correct spelling now!” He beams, like that simple correction is the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe.

 

“What a relief,” Hongjoong says, flashing the guy a phony grin.

 

“R-right, well then. Mm- Yes. I trust you’ve gotten your itinerary delivered to you for the festivities?” The worker asks, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose.

 

“We sure do,” The captain replies assuredly.

 

“Excellent. We thank you for your contribution to the great family of Neith’s glorious proceedings. Now, if you will excuse me,” With that, the dock worker is off. He looks like a woodland creature, the way he scampers off, his legs a blur. The moment he’s out of the vicinity, Hongjoong’s shoulders sag, and he heaves a sigh of relief.

 

“I already like this better than the last place we landed,” Jongho says as he descends the loading dock. The others aren’t far behind, and soon they gather to solidify their gameplan.

 

“Okay,” Hongjoong says declaratively when everyone’s circled up. “Wooyoung and I figured out- well, we theorized- that the Compass brought us here for a reason. It’s missing some parts, and it’s old tech. If what they say about Venus is true, then we might be able to find the right parts to get it up and running proper-like.”

 

“Mhm.” “Okay.” A few murmur responses, and others nod.

 

The captain continues, “Of course, we don’t know what we’re looking for. Not for the Compass, at least. What we do know, is that we need a part for our landing gear-” He nods toward their ship (which had landed a tad jerkily, to put it lightly). “No doubt the shops here will have parts we can use. Then there’s the matter of this royal wedding thing.”

 

“Yeah,” Yunho nibbles on his lip nervously, “Are we expected to, like, do something for that?”

 

Hongjoong shrugs, “I dunno. If people start breathing down our necks, we can improvise, well, something.”

 

“San can always put ‘em to sleep,” Wooyoung posits.

 

“Let’s  _ not  _ default to weaponizing the siren,” The captain says. Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something else, and Joong cuts him off, “ _ Or _ the kid.” Wooyoung deflates at that.

 

Hongjoong talks more, mostly so nobody else puts out any stupid ideas, “Okay- My point with that is we have a timeline. We need to find out how long this wedding thing is. These Venus people-”

 

“Venusians,” Wooyoung cuts in.

 

“What?”

 

“They’re called Venusians.”

 

“ _ Anyways- _ these  _ Venusians _ , they obviously like routines and schedules. We can’t leave early or stick around too long. It’ll definitely rouse their suspicion, and I don’t wanna get vaporized by whatever insane weaponry these people have. So, I, uh… I don’t suppose anyone actually knows when this thing is…?”

 

The crew exchanges a few dubious looks. “Uh.” “No.” “Nope.” “No idea.” “It’s gotta be soon, right?” “I don’t think it’s today…” “I really don’t know-”

 

“Great,” Hongjoong claps and lets out a puff of hair. “Great. Okay- Well, I propose we hit the bazaars first and scope out parts. At the very least we can fix our landing gear. I grabbed a few things I think we might be able to trade.”

 

“So,” Yunho holds up a finger, “Just to get this clear. We’re gonna… Hit the bazaar, get some parts, and lay low until this wedding thing is over with?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Pretty much. Any questions?” The captain opens it up to crew. He’s met with a collective shake of the head and a couple of muttered no’s. “Good! Then let’s go.”

 

Hongjoong walks in the same direction that everyone else is walking. He doesn’t actually know where the hell he’s going, but he assumes someone does. They’ll at least be able to lead him out of the docking lot. Hopefully. He remains steadfast and silent as the rest of his crew chatters behind him.

 

“Do you think they’ll have meat stalls?” Yunho asks.

 

“Probably.  _ Yum _ , fresh food…” Jongho almost audibly drools.

 

“Okay,” Wooyoung says softly, “I dunno how markets are where you’re from-” So he’s speaking to San, Joong muses. “-but they can get pretty crazy here. People might even, like, tug on your clothes or yell stuff. Just ignore them, okay?”

 

“Is it not appropriate to open hand to hand combat when you’re harassed?” San asks quietly. Hongjoong almosts blows his cover by snorting, but he represses the sound (barely).

 

“Wh- No! Not on this planet,” Wooyoung speaks in such a sweet tone to the siren, it almost sickens Hongjoong. It definitely contradicts what he’d gone on about earlier “being bad with people” and whatnot. Hongjoong opts to stay out of it, of course. 

 

Wooyoung hushedly instructs the other, “Just stick close to me, okay?”

 

“Okay,” San replies.

 

* * *

 

The streets of Neith’s capital city are, in fact, paved in gold. That’s the first thing Hongjoong learned upon truly entering the capital city called Sais. The next thing he learned is that Sais had been designed and built to surround and support the palace as fortification originally. From above, the entire city looks like one big grid surrounding the focal point in the middle: the palace estate. 

 

Surprisingly, the pretention and compulsive nature of the Venusian people serves ATEEZ’s crew well in this case. Being that the entire place is a grid, and streets are named simply. Those running east and west are assigned symbols and those running north to south have numbers. The docking lot that they’d landed in was nestled in a five by five block area between Tau Twelve and Tau Seventeen. A nice worker close to the exit informed the captain that the best marketplace in the city happens to be close by - at the corner of Pi Fifteen.

 

The crew set off given her directions, gawking all the way. The sidewalks upon which they stroll are made of marble. Ornate floral patterns of gold and silver are inlaid into the gleaming slabs, and between them spans the aforementioned street paved in literal gold. Though a few shining hovercars drive along the thoroughfare, Hongjoong gets the impression that Sais is more a pedestrian city than anything else.

 

Locals and visitors are very easy to tell apart. Visitors look… Well, normal. They walk the streets craning their necks and picking their jaws up off the ground, gaping and gasping at every turn. There’s people of all sizes, shapes, colors and races - from pointy-eared elves to broad-shouldered orcmen. Much like back in KQ, they’re wearing all sorts of things and speaking in different dialects of the Coalition enforced universal language. Those are the visitors.

 

Then there’s the Venusians.

 

Their presence is so jarringly distinguishable from the rest, it almost seems like they’re the foreigners. One thing Hongjoong notices immediately is that they’re all tall. No, he thinks, not tall. Statuesque. Statuesque describes them well, he thinks, because not just their physical form but even their features look like they’ve been artfully carved. There’s not a doughy face or delicate jawline among them. A person could practically get cut by the borderline severity of Venusian features. Their skin, though varying in tones, glimmers in the mellow morning sunlight. He wonders - is it a cosmetic thing like highlight or liquid glitter, or do Venusians just possess a natural glow. Whatever the origin, they all possess it. All hair is kept neat - be it neatly braided, cut short or pulled back. Their clothing almost looks like a uniform. They wear light colors - almost mistakable for white, but the textiles are lustrous, strewn with gold and platinum, from the looks of it. There’s no graphic prints or busy details. The silhouettes are simple, tailored to highlight (or at least simulate) the apparent ideal of a tall, slender body. When they speak, their tone turns up and curls around the syllables of their native language prettily. Hongjoong never thought in a million years he’d come across a people more full of themselves than the elves or even the GC officers at the jail. He starts to wonder if he was wrong.

 

“This place is the real deal,” The words drop from Wooyoung’s mouth almost unconsciously, dripping with awe and wonder.

 

San clamors closer to his close confidant’s side and even takes his hand, “I’ve never seen so- so much- metal and- And light.” He blinks uncomfortably.

 

“How much do you think this sidewalk cost to build?” Jongho asks, eyes fixed on the ground as they walk.

 

“Probably more money than I’ll ever see in my life,” Yunho responds. “D’you think they bathe in gold?”

 

“Uh- They’re paving the streets in gold. They probably wouldn’t dare touch the stuff,” Wooyoung responds. “I bet they bathe in platinum.”

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Hongjoong says over his shoulder to the crew walking behind him. “Let’s quiet down about how obscenely rich these people are. If we wanna haggle with them we need to get on their good side and not be- Jongho stop staring at the sidewalk!”

  
“Sorry- I’m sorry!” The youngest replies sheepishly.

 

“I’m just saying let’s try to be- I dunno- upstanding citizens. Y’know, so these people actually want to do business with us when we get to the bazaar,” The captain instructs.

 

“They said at Pi and uh, Fifteen?” Yunho asks. 

 

Joong nods, “Yup. So that should be right…” He pauses. “Right here?” He halts. The others bump into one another, unprepared for the abrupt stop. Hongjoong turns to look beside him and it does, in fact, look like a bazaar. Of sorts. Between two buildings extends a long strip of gold lined with stalls, blankets spread with nick nacks, carts and a few modest storefronts. Earthy, herbal smalls waft out onto the street from a nearby food vendor. A hex-quilted force field stretches above the space, diffusing the light and protecting the shoppers below from radiation. The variety of stalls, the little street performer acts, the people hocking wares - those are things Hongjoong recognizes as indicative of a bazaar or marketplace. However, what spurns his hesitance is the one distinct thing it lacks.

 

“It’s so…  _ Orderly _ ,” Yunho remarks, as if reading Hongjoong’s mind.

 

Yes, there’s tons of vendors along the long strip. Yes, both visitors and Venusians alike traipse the shops up and down in search of a deal. But they do so while respecting the personal space of others with hushed voices and polite salutations. It’s a far, far departure from the absolute chaos that Hongjoong is used to. Nobody’s hollering, tugging, making demands or starting fights. There are no shout matches over something being too expensive or pickpockets darting around between peoples’ legs. 

 

“When do they start yelling?” San asks naively.

 

“You sure this is the right place?” Wooyoung inquires.

 

“Uh-” Hongjoong glances at the nearby street sign, “This is definitely Fifteen and Pi.” He steps to the side and bumps into a Venusian woman with a child.

 

“Excuse me, my apologies,” She says, her voice outlined with the almost curly sounding Venusian accent. With a deferent nod, she carries on, completely unruffled.

 

“Did she just say ‘excuse me’?” Yunho gasps. His tail falls between his legs. 

 

“And she even apologized,” Jongho adds facetiously.

 

“I  _ know-  _ what was up with that!?” The canis huffs.

 

Jongho shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Though he’s the youngest, he bravely leads the charge into the bazaar without a care in the world. The rest of the crew scuttles behind him, and they quickly fall into line, doing their best to align with the Venusian manners. Hongjoong, determined not to rock the boat or stir anything, does almost all of the talking. He quickly learns that there is no price haggling in a Venusian bazaar. You pay what they tell you to, or you get out (with very polite parting words, of course). The problem with that is - very true to the planet and city’s brand - everything is expensive.

 

Hongjoong winces when given no choice but the accept the paltry sums he’s offered for the stuff he’d swiped. He thought that some of the workers there on contract might extend a little courtesy - maybe give him more than the locals, since he’s offering them good stuff without the middleman. But not even they budge. Maybe the prospect of being kicked off for rule-bending is too great a threat to them. Joong doesn’t know. He doesn’t much care, either. In the grand scheme of things, he’s still coming up shorter than he wants, and he’s got a feeling that ship parts don’t come cheap around these parts.

 

As budget conscious as he is, though, Hongjoong’s not exactly strict or stingy. He’s perfectly fine when Yunho and San approach him with hands full of skewered meat, and he even finds his eyes drifting to racks of clothes as they pass through the place.

 

“-there’s Sais Parts and Services a few blocks down, but they tack on services fees. The Ship Department is nicer and has a wider variety, but also more expensive. Siddharth is best equipped to serve those sorts of needs,” An amiable Venusian vendor tells Hongjoong. She gives him a polite nod and repositions the baby in her arms slightly.

 

The ATEEZ crew has reached just about halfway down one side of the place, and the captain’s made it his mission to find the best deal on ship parts possible. He’s been asking around and, surprisingly, the Venusians don’t seem inclined to swindle their naive visitors. In any other place, the savvy types would steal right from under a customer’s nose - they’d do it with a massive grin and their best customer service voice. It’s usually up to the customer to know their stuff, or else  _ they’re _ the moron who let themselves get upcharged five times the going price for something. Apparently, that’s not how they do it on Venus.

 

“You’re not the only one who mentioned him,” Hongjoong replies with an authentic smile. “Thank you, miss.” He turns to her infant, “And thank you, too.” He coos. 

 

The Venusian baby hiccups, and its little face wrinkles.

 

“W-waaah!” He bursts into tears, face red and tiny arms flailing.

 

Wooyoung snickers from behind him, “Ha-! Look what you did!”

 

Hongjoong groans internally and tries not to let it impact his self esteem too much. So what if he talks to a baby and it cries? Babies cry all the time! It has nothing to do with his looks - right?  _ Right? _

 

“I’m  _ so  _ sorry,” The shopkeeper gasps. She looks absolutely devastated - like having a crying baby is a cardinal sin and she’s about to meet her maker for judgment. “I’m so, sorry he’s- he’s not used to all these strangers. It’s been very busy. There, there,” She tries rocking the little one and making tutting noises, but it doesn’t seem to help.

 

San (who’d been next to Wooyoung) steps over to Hongjoong’s side quietly. He grins at the baby and makes a few shushing sounds before parting his lips.

 

_ “Snowflakes are falling, getting farther away. I miss you, I miss you...” _

 

The siren’s voice enters Hongjoong’s ears, his saccharine syllables trickling in like sweet wine. For a moment, everything else fades. Even the edges of his vision distorts, smudging and blurring ever so slightly. Strangely enough, in spite of the disorientation, Hongjoong doesn’t feel any stress. He feels quite the opposite, actually. An almost dizzying sense of calm washes over him like a gentle wave. 

 

Just as quickly as it’d come, the sensation vanishes, and the captain’s vision clears quickly. For some reason he feels… Better. He wasn’t even aware of just how anxious he’d been until becoming unwound. He also notices something else: the distinct lack of a baby’s crying.

 

“Your voice,” The vendor pipes up in a hushed tone, “It’s beautiful. You put him right to sleep. You- you must be performers, then. For the wedding festivities.”

 

San smiles and nods, his fond gaze never leaving the child, “Yes, we are.”

 

“You must tell me when and where you are sleighted to perform. I would love to see your act,” The woman smiles graciously.

 

“I- Uh-” San looks to Hongjoong for help.

 

Solutions, alternatives, stories and lies all whip and whir through Joong’s head as he searches for an answer. Quick on his toes, he flashes the Venusian a smile and answers:

 

“Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen circumstances our… Concrete time of performance is indeterminate. However,” Hongjoong glances over his shoulder. There happens to be an empty spot across the bazaar’s main thoroughfare. Perhaps whoever had laid shop there had packed up for the day. “In the meanwhile we actually intended to hold a small performance for tips.” San raises his eyebrows at the captain, more impressed than piqued. 

 

“How fantastic! We will be fortunate enough to hear you, then,” She beams.

 

“Yes, we’re going to set up now, actually,” Hongjoong gives a polite parting wave before trudging across the way. He waves Yunho, Jongho, and Wooyoung over, and his four loyal crew-turned-obligate-performer-troupe follow. 

 

“Uh- What was that?” Wooyoung asks, pupils dancing between the shopkeeper behind them and unoccupied stretch of market strip in front of them.

 

“ _ That _ was a stroke of genius,” Hongjoong tells them as they claim their spot along the strip.

 

“What’s he talking about?” Yunho - who hadn’t bothered listening in - asks.

 

San grins, “We’re gonna perform for tips.”

 

“You sure it wasn’t just a stroke?” Jongho asks dryly.

 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “I’m serious, the both of you are good at singing and Wooyoung is-” He waves vaguely, hoping something will come to him. “You two are really good at singing,” He repeats. Wooyoung furrows his brows. “ _ And _ Wooyoung has the street smarts to turn our little sideshow act into a promising short-term enterprise.”

 

“What happened to no weaponizing the siren?” Wooyoung crosses his arms and frowns. “And- And I dunno how comfortable I feel exploiting San’s gifts as- like- a meal ticket.” His ears flush ever so slightly.

 

“A- What?” Hongjoong leers at the other. “First of all, money isn’t  _ my  _ meal ticket. It’s for  _ everyone _ . Secondly- Do I have to remind you that we all have, like, one set of clothes each?”

 

“Yeah, but this is the exact shit people used sirens for before-”

 

“Hi,” San holds up a hand. “Siren here- you know, the one you two are talking about. As if I can’t hear you. I, for one, am all for exploiting my gifts for capital gain in this instance.” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows at Wooyoung as if to say “I told you so”. “ _ But _ ,” San adds, his tone softening, “I really  _ do  _ appreciate your consideration.” He gives Wooyoung a warm sideways glance, and the captain almost feels like he’s walked in on something private.

 

“Wh- Nobody cares if  _ I’m _ exploited,” Jongho huffs sarcastically. “And what are you two gonna be doing while we bust our asses?” He points to captain and canis.

 

“Yunho and I are gonna head toward the palace and see what we can find out about this wedding. I figure after getting a timeline, we can convene, hopefully do some shopping and start asking around about the Compass. That seem reasonable to all of you?”

 

“Yup.” “Sounds good to me.” “I don’t care.”

 

Hongjoong nods,“Good. Yunho, come o-”

 

“Excuse me,” A tiny voice interrupts from behind them. Hongjoong turns around, and at first, he whips his head around confusedly. “Excuse me.” The voice says again, muted and thickly accented.

 

The captain blinks before looking down. He’s met with the sight of a tiny Venusian boy. He’s probably no more than four years old (assuming they age about the same as other humanoids). 

 

“Uh, yes?” Hongjoong crouches down to meet the child’s height, speaking softly. He prays he doesn’t scare this one, too. An adult figure joins the youngling’s side and chuckles sheepishly.

 

“Use your words, little one,” He encourages (presumably) his child.

 

Hongjoong can’t help but notice that the kid’s not really looking at him at all. Oh, no, his eyes are somewhere else - and when the captain follows them, he’s not surprised.

 

“E-Excuse me. I was wondering if I may pet the puppy,” The young boy points to Yunho, big brown eyes wide with fascination.

 

“U-Uh,” Hongjoong is genuinely taken aback, and he doesn’t know how to answer that. “Um, actually-” He looks to Yunho for help.

 

“U-um,” The canis looks just as uncomfortable as the captain. Usually, this is the part where he uses colorful expletives to tell someone to fuck off. But, that “someone” usually isn’t an adorable, tiny Venusian child with good manners and chubby cheeks.

 

“How much?” The father adds. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Joong blurts out. “C-Come again?”

 

“How much to pet the puppy? One-hundred credits?” The Venusian withdraws a slender wallet from his jacket.

 

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged shocked looks. 

 

Yunho, face flushed deep red, holds his hands up in front of himself, “I- I think you’re misunderstanding-”

 

“Two-hundred?” The Venusian man asks again, completely nonchalant.

  
Two-hundred?

 

_ Two-hundred credits? _

 

Two-hundred crisp, untraceable, paper credits? In their hand? _ To cop a feel? _

 

Hongjoong can think of a lot of things they could do with two hundred credits. (At least, things they could do on planets where inflation isn’t insane.) Two-hundred credits can get a couple weeks worth of groceries with careful planning. It can buy some manual injection meds or a half a tank of fuel.

 

The captain gives his pilot a pleading, wide-eyed expression, nonverbally begging: “ _ Please _ take this man’s money.” Okay, so maybe he  _ is  _ exploiting is crew a bit today. But only  _ mildly  _ \- and for  _ everyone’s  _ benefit!

 

Yunho, taking the hint, pouts. He squats down, lowering his long body as much as possible to match the kid’s height and sticking his tail out with a noncommittal wag.

 

“Two-hundred is fine,” Hongjoong replies to the man with a wide, ear-to-ear grin. The Venusian hands over the bills, and his child bounces giddily, going straight for the tail. He sees the man reach into his jacket again to withdraw a capture screen and pipes up, “It’s three-hundred with a picture.”

 

* * *

“That was humiliating,” Yunho grumbles as the to emerge from the hexagonal shading of the bazaar.

 

“That was three-hundred credits- and a very happy child,” Hongjoong preens as he fans out the bills. All three of them. He’s not used to big bills and dejectedly admits to himself: it just doesn’t feel quite as special. He supposes he ought to be grateful he got any money at all, lack of glamorous, fantastic making-it-rain capabilities aside.

 

“It was a cute kid,” The canis admits. “Lucky for him! If that guy had an ugly child, I’d have told him to fuck off.”

 

“You’re lucky I respect you or I’d start telling people to make a line. I saw a few others checking out that tail,” Hongjoong jokes.

 

“You’re despicable,” The dog barks with no bite. It’s the type of stuff only Hongjoong can say because they’ve been glued at the hip since childhood. If anyone else said anything like that, Yunho would (rightfully) kick their ass. The sickening truth is that there are lots of folks in the universe who  _ would  _ use Yunho like that. Yunho knows Hongjoong isn’t one of them, though. That’s why he can say basically whatever the hell he wants.

 

It gets more densely crowded the closer they get to the palace. Hongjoong didn’t even bother asking for directions. The massive towers really are visible from anywhere there’s a window or visual of the sky. Using those as a guideline, he leads the other toward the iridescent spires of Sais Castle.

 

The pair passes block after block of high-rise, rich looking condominiums, luxury shops and pristine looking corporate suites. It seems as if even nature itself is given strict rules in Sais. Plant life is confined to carefully inset planters with rococo engravings and trimmed so as to not stick out even a millimeter beyond its laid out boundary. Every so often, the hairs stick up on the back of Hongjoong’s neck, and they pass a uniformed officer. Venus is independent, so they don’t don the iconic black uniform of the Coalition. Instead, they wear lustrous silver uniforms that match wonderfully with their charcoal gray boots and meter long rifles.

  
Hongjoong wonders why the hell anyone needs a gun that big - let alone the guard on a bougie planet like Venus. He wonders if the locals feel safer with their guard lugging around the titanic things. Or, maybe all the guests swarming in prompted the rolling out of the rapid-reload, auto-scope carpet. Joong strikes the thoughts from his head. He doesn’t want his thinking about being at the business end of one of those things to turn into some self-fulfilling prophecy. Being in the presence of them is bad enough.

 

Eventually myriad roads converge into a single place - a glistening plaza. Tents cover the vast court, arranged in a thoughtful, well spaced out manner of course. More venors sell wares, and weaving between the temporarily erected structures are performers. Garbed in the most color Hongjoong had seen all day, they sway and bounce animatedly, following the minstrels and spreading joy throughout the gathering crowd. Guards decorate almost every corner like statues. It seems excessive, but Joong supposes it’s not surprising. Rich people are paranoid. They’ll do anything to protect themselves from threats. (Threats usually being things like dust mites. Or the poor.) Just beyond the artistically laid marble tile of the plaza sits the massive, heavy looking castle gates. 

 

“Is he coming?” “They’re coming!” “I want to see him up close!” Quiet chatter erupts in the cluster of people gathering in the middle of the square.

 

“Wh- Who’s coming?” Yunho asks.

 

Hongjoong shrugs. All he wants to know is when the hell this wedding is going down. The captain and pilot stealthily integrate with the growing throng toward the center of the plaza. Joong can barely see between the people, it’s so crowded. An energy barrier at the front separates the people from a gold platform not far away from the two. A few sleek, crystal chairs line the back, and a platform sits front and center. It seems like someone is coming after all.

 

“Oh my god- is that them?” “I wanna see.” “P-please excuse me.” “Please pardon me.” “I apologize.” Perhaps the most well-mannered commotion Hongjoong has ever witnessed breaks out around them. Venusians and visitors alike nudge past gingerly, uttering apologies all the while. “Sorry.” “Apologies!” “Pardon me.” “If I may just squeeze past-” “Excuse me.” “Oh my god- if it’s really him, I’m going to die.” “I think they’re coming- oh goodness, do I look okay?!” “Sorry.”

 

“Wh- Who is it?” Hongjoong jumps up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the platform. He makes out silhouettes drawing nearer from the distance, but the more people fill in, the harder it is for him to see above their heads.

 

“You wanna sit on my shoulders?” Yunho snarks.

 

“Sh-shut up,” The captain gripes.

 

“Come on,” The canis grabs his captain’s wrist and drags them forward. Hongjoong protests emphatically, whispering curses at the other. Yunho ignores him. He barks half-hearted apologies here and there as he butts his way right up to the barrier. Joong feels his face burn beet red - this is not keeping a low profile. The last thing he wants is to piss someone off in this already very delicate situation. Clearly, the Venusians take manners very seriously. Who knows what can happen if someone who actually matters takes offense to their actions?

 

“Oh my- It’s happening-” “He’s here!” “They’re coming.” “Hush- hush!” “He’s so handsome.” “The princess is so lucky.” “S-sorry, may I trouble you for a closer look?” “P-please just, if I could squeeze by-” “What a man-” “If I was twenty years younger…”

 

There’s so many whispers that they start to meld into a singular, buzzing hum of vague voices. They’re quickly drowned out by a trumpeted fanfare of sorts. The tune is upbeat, full of little staccato peaks outlined with jaunty strings. Yunho manages to reach a spot not too far off center, nestled between a couple of Venusian families. No sooner than the two take their spot does a small pack of people take their seats atop the elegant, carved-crystal chairs on the platform.

 

Four tall, majestic figures sit like ducks in a row, upright and proper. On the far left is an older gentleman, distinguished and handsome. If someone looked up “Venusian” in a book, surely his picture would show up. Sunlight catches the peaks of his carved facial features, twinkling brilliantly in the late morning sun. The sparkling textile from which his (flawlessly tailored) garb had been fashioned from bore a monochromatic pattern. If Joong didn’t look closely, he wouldn’t even notice the white on white floral design. A woven circlet sits upon his head, polished so perfectly that it rivals mirrors for its reflective properties. The woman - no, this isn’t a woman, Joong thinks, this is a lady. The lady sitting next to him looks even more stunning. The cut of her gown is simple and fitted, completely uncanny in accentuating her goddess-like figure. She, too, wears a circlet, though hers is slightly less grand, donning only a few twirls. Next to her sit two young men. Their circlets are simple metal bands, signifying a lower rank.

 

It takes almost embarrassingly long for it to click in Hongjoong’s mind: this is the royal family of Neith. Somehow, he, a jackass junker from a backwater earth knockoff, has found himself in front of literal royalty. Not just any royalty, either.  _ Venusian  _ royalty. The royalty of a planet that doesn’t let just anyone in. Once again, the captain asks himself:

 

How the  _ hell  _ did I get here?

 

Except, for the first time in way too long, the question isn’t in the context of something awful happening. That’s not to say being in the presence of royalty is great or anything. In all honesty, the captain doesn’t give a rat’s about that type of stuff. He’s way too busy handling his own shit to care what this royal wears or who that royal marries. He supposes if he’d grown up on a planet where royalty was more than just something out of a story book, he’d care. But he doesn’t. He’s on a planet of rich people, and these people just happen to be extra rich. And possibly inbred. That’s his take on it.

 

“They’re so…  _ Shiny _ ,” Yunho gasps hushedly. Joong blinks with bafflement and casts a sideways glance at his companion. The canis looks absolutely starstruck. Just as the captain’s about to berate him (because who the fuck  _ cares  _ about people just because they’re wealthy and privileged) the instrumental fanfare stops. The ensuing silence prompts  _ everyone  _ to shut their mouths.

 

A fifth person steps onto the platform - someone unofficial and entirely unremarkable. He stands tall and gazes across the sizeable crowd, waiting for the remnant whispers to cease. When they do, he speaks in a clear, deep, accented voice.

 

“Greetings and best of latemorn to all,” He starts. Suddenly, a huge screen projection flickers to life behind the platform. The already lanky gentleman appears as big as a building in the massive screen. Even his pores appear on the screen - though, to nobody’s surprise, they’re almost nonexistent. 

 

“As high herald to the esteemed Song family, royal family of our beautiful country of Neith, it is my privilege to welcome all to the Nile Plaza on this glorious day. I have had the honor of holding this position for the past two decades, and in this time, I have also had an even more special honor.” The herald gestures behind him, toward one of the young men. “I have had the pleasure of watching young Prince Mingi grow from a rather hesitant child into a brilliant, righteous young man.”

 

The feed on the screen swivels from the speaker to one of the young men sitting. It’s the one on the far right. The young man - Prince Mingi - sits so uprightly, it makes Hongjoong correct his own posture. A look of serene boredom is plastered on the guy’s face. He looks around their age, Hongjoong realizes. He wonders what that guy’s done all his life. Taken royal lessons from his royal teachers in his royal castle? And now what, he’s gonna get married? To royalty? The thought makes him cringe. His lifestyle is  _ far  _ from glamorous, but the thought of being so tied down at such a young age makes him squirm. Sure, everything’s handed to you, but at what cost?

 

Something hits the back of Hongjoong’s leg, and he jumps up with a soft yelp. It hits Joong again - a gentle, consistent force. His head whips around, looking for something, anything that could be the source. Then, he glances right next to himself and catches the culprit red-handed. Or, maybe, blond-tailed? Yunho’s face is tilted, and he stares at the screen, his face fixed in an expression of intrigued inquisition. In spite of his almost blank expression, his tail bats back and forth wildly. He likes what he sees.

 

Joong rolls his eyes before returning them to the screen. He didn’t hear what the herald guy said, but Prince Mingi’s standing up now. Seeing his majesty from head to toe on a big screen, Hongjoong waves the rhetorical white flag. He gets Yunho. He gets the people who’d been whispering earlier. Most importantly: he gets a nice look at Prince Song Mingi.

 

To put it profanely: he hot. Broad shoulders taper into a waist so tiny Joong half-theorizes there’s a corset under that fitted suit. Of course, that theory gets lost and forgotten when the captain looks at his legs. Perhaps the better way to put it is to say that it’s the man above who belongs to the legs. They’re almost too well muscled to belong to someone that skinny, and Hongjoong almost loathes the prince for the fact that his legs are probably as tall as Joong’s entire body. No, Hongjoong thinks as he circles back to Prince Mingi’s face, he  _ definitely  _ loathes this guy. He’s rich, privileged, has job security, is getting married to someone who’s probably as hot as he is - for a second Joong forgets his love of freedom and stews in bitterness.

 

Just a second, though. Then, he makes a sheepish return to reality as he recalls that hating someone he doesn’t even know is stupid. Even if said someone is  _ probably  _ a prick. He can’t be worse than Officer Park, at least.

 

“So that’s what a prince looks like,” Yunho murmurs. He’s still frozen with wonderment like someone had pressed the pause button on a video.

 

“Scary, I know,” Hongjoong whispers back. There’s a lurking fear in the back of his head that if they’re caught talking one of those giant rifles is gonna get shoved up his ass.

 

“He’s so- Like- majestic,” Yunho responds mutedly.

 

“Yes, he’s a royalty. They probably have classes on how to stand all proper-like.”

 

“It’s just royalty.”

 

“What?”

 

“You said he’s ‘a royalty’ - but I think you just say royalty. Like ‘he is royalty’, you know?”

 

“Wh- Are you really correcting me right now?”

 

“I’m just saying… A royalty sounds weird.”

 

“Oh my god-”

 

“Shh!” Someone behind them shushes indignantly.

 

Hongjoong leans closer to Yunho, quieting himself more, “Since when are you into this stuff?”

 

“What stuff?”

 

“All this royalty crap?”

 

“Wh- I am not  _ into royalty _ you weirdo,” Yunho nods toward the screen, “I’m into  _ him _ .”

 

“Well get out of him.”

 

“Pfft- I wish I w-”

 

“You will not finish that sentence, if someone overhears us we’ll get killed or something,” The captain whispers intensely. “They probably have decency laws about language.”

 

“You started it.”

 

“Fine- Well, I’m ending it now. So shut up and stop fantasizing about becoming Princess Yunho.”

 

“Shhh!” The person shushes them  _ again _ . Hongjoong rolls his eyes, opting to ignore them. Venusians are too polite to start fights, anyways. As long as the guards don’t overhear them talking shit, they’re fine, he figures.

 

“Fuck you I’ll fantasize about what I want. Plus I’d look great in a dress.”

 

“If a dress is what you want, we can buy you a dress. Will that make you happy?”

 

“Do you think he’s a nice guy?”

 

“What?”   
  


“The prince, idiot. Like- I dunno he looks kinda scary, I’m not gonna lie.”

 

“All Venusians look scary, it’s a moot poi- why are we still talking about this?!”

 

“What’s the name Mingi mean, anyways? It’s kinda cutesy for a dude like him, don’t you think?  _ Mingi _ . Min-gi-”

 

“Shh!” The person behind them hisses  _ again _ . Hongjoong scowls, and he opens his mouth to give the person a piece of his mind. However, the queen rises from her chair, and his attention is snatched away yet again. She greets her people with a graceful, reserved smile before imparting her words unto them:

 

“-it is our honor to share this beautiful milestone in our son’s life with not just ourselves, but with the good people of Neith.”

 

Honor. Honor, honor, honor. They say that a lot Joong muses. Like a lot. He thinks they’re just about as honored as a donkey’s ass. Do people actually believe that the royal family gives a shit? Then again, he supposes there’s no real “lower class” present, so maybe she does care about the wellbeing of her people. It’s easier to care when the general populous is at least somewhat like you - in this case rich as hell.

 

“In just two days time we will see the glorious matrimony of our Mingi to the Princess of Amalthea. In doing so, he shall ascend to his rightful place on the throne-” She turns to the King with a coy grin, “-and give his majesty some much needed rest.” Conciliatory chuckles rumble through the crowd. 

 

Two days - that’s the useful bit. That means they’ve got three nights to gather supplies and, hopefully, find out something about the Compass. 

 

Her majesty goes on, “To thank the citizens of Neith for their undying loyalty and support, we are doing something unprecedented in gratitude. Tonight, at six o'clock sharp, we shall be opening the doors to the palace. We invite you to dine, dance, and engage in merriment with us in our grand hall!” Shocked gasps and thrilled whispers erupt throughout the crowd.

 

Unprecedented indeed, the captain think. He doesn’t know much about royalty, but he knows that they don’t invite commoners into their house to party. It’s weird, but not necessarily suspicious. Maybe Venusians are more lovey-dovey than he’d thought. Or maybe they just wanted to throw the biggest rager so they could have bragging rights for the next generation. Hongjoong doesn’t know their motive nor does he care. Through all the frippery and fluff, he takes away two very, very important words: free food.

 

Hongjoong smiles at that thought, and he leans over to Yunho, “I think we got all we need. Wanna find the guys?”

 

“But they’re not finished,” Yunho says, the slightest note of a pouty whimper in his tone.

 

“We know when the wedding is, and we know that in approximately seven hours there’s gonna be free food waiting for us in a swanky castle. I say we split and get some shit done. Then we’ll have times to doll ourselves up for the party. Sound like a plan?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Yunho’s response is distracted, at best. 

 

In departure, it’s Hongjoong dragging Yunho by the wrist. He does his best impression of a mannerly Venusian, apologizing profusely as the two wade through the crowd. Joong’s gaze is focused up front, but he’s pretty damn certain Yunho’s eyes haven’t left the screen.

 

The captain decides to let his pilot daydream a little longer. Joong likes to space out in his own rite - he did base his life dream off of a story after all. In spite of that, his protective streak wants to pull Yunho back down to reality. Guys like Prince Mingi don’t give a shit about their kind - the hard-working, barely-getting-by dreamers. The only reason they’re even  _ breathing the same air _ as royalty is because they’d conned their way onto the planet. Hongjoong already knows how this is gonna go. 

 

Yunho’s gonna float around with his head in the cloud until he’s dragged down by the truth - in this case, a giant, elaborate wedding - and then he’s gonna mope for days with his tail sagging pathetically. Obviously Yunho doesn’t  _ actually  _ expect to even talk to the guy - he’s optimistic, but not stupid. Still, he likes to fall in love with  _ ideas _ . He’ll fall head over heels for the idea of some charming royal sweeping him off his feet, and when it inevitably doesn’t happen, he’ll sulk. It’s happened before - with the pretty girl from the private school near the apartment, with the sharp kid who lived a floor below them, with the hot snake hybrid who banged him and ghosted him afterward - and it’ll happen again. Hongjoong sighs internally. Just like all the other times, it’ll be him picking up the broken pieces, too. 

 

Even knowing all of that, he doesn’t have the heart to disincline Yunho. After all, there’s always that  _ one  _ slim possibility that maybe,  _ maybe  _ things turn out different than the order of the universe dictates. Maybe,  _ just this once, _ the universe will throw the dog a bone. But Hongjoong doesn’t like his chances. 

 

God knows what goes through the heads of these crazy rich Venusians.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Cirrus clouds lazily float across the azure Venus sky in the late afternoon. Just as the morning sun had promised, the day had, in fact, been very hot. Even hotter is the transition into evening. The sun’s harsh beams give their last, triumphant hurrah, baking all beneath it so as to remind them that it will be back the next day. It’s about four o’clock Neith time when ATEEZ’s crew returns to the docking lot with the spoils of war. After gathering recon from the unanticipated public speaking engagement with the royal family, Hongjoong had gone to find the remainder of his crew.

 

They’d done well for themselves. Very well. Like, jaw-droppingly, shockingly well. The memory still plays vividly in the captain’s mind, Jongho triumphantly dropping his jacket (which he’d fashioned into a sack of sorts) in front of the captain and pilot. It made a heavy, metallic thunking noise, falling hard and fast. They scurried off to a safe, remote corner and counted.

 

The little musical trio had somehow earned twelve thousand credits. Not twelve, not twelve-hundred - twelve _thousand_. Sure, that amount doesn’t stretch nearly as far on Venus as it would elsewhere, but it’s still twelve g’s - and for what? A few ballad and some sweettalking. That along with the nuggets of info from the plaza gathering, made for a successful morning.

  
Hongjoong ordered that they split the earnings into six parts - three bigger for the ones who actually worked, two smaller ones for Hongjoong and Yunho, and a communal fund for necessities like food and ship maintenance. Shares in pocket, they embarked upon the noble mission of shopping. Joong did as he’d been advised and hit up the man named Siddharth to get the hydraulics bits they needed. They picked up some genuine, fresh produce (something Hongjoong hadn’t had the chance to eat in way too long) and reasonably priced meat. Joong nearly had to drag Yunho by the tail when they passed the wagyu beef, and Wooyoung almost spent his entire portion on designer Venusian clothes - but they managed! Some groceries, trinkets, and wardrobe additions later, they made it out with some of their budget left in tact. Joong decides to pocket the little singing duo con for later, just in case, but it’s not something he wants to put them up to again. They’d done plenty already.

 

“I’m starving,” San stretches languidly, overfilled bags in his hands.

 

“We’re gonna eat so much Venusian food in, like, two hours,” Jongho responds to the other as they walk up the loading ramp. He carries eight bags like a pack mule with no effort.

 

“And drinks,” San adds. “I’ve never had surface-dweller spirits before. I’ve only read about them in stories…”

 

Jongho snorts,“I’m putting it on the record - if anyone gets too drunk to walk, I am not carrying your ass home…” His voice trails off and the two disappear into the ship.

 

Yunho and Wooyoung waste no time grabbing their hydraulics parts and rushing to their landing gear. Piping is finicky, but at the very least it’s not something that requires necessarily delicate or practiced hands. He trusts the two will be able to mend their faulty lines without blowing something up. That leaves one detail for Hongjoong to worry about.

 

In truth, it’d been sitting there at the back of his mind for the past few hours. Maybe it’s the general culture or environment of Neith. Or maybe it was watching the royal family speak. Hongjoong doesn’t know what he has to thank for the little demon relentlessly gnawing at the back of his thoughts, but he knows avoiding it isn’t gonna make it go away.

 

The captain’s first stop is the kitchen. He loads a few things into the refrigerator and arranges some dry goods in the pantry. It’s a bit early, but Hongjoong doesn’t know when they’re all gonna be back from the gala ball thing. Worrying about feeding their esteemed guest isn’t something he wants on his checklist for the night. So, he figures: feed him now, don’t worry about it later. The added benefit of getting to taunt him is completely tangential and absolutely not the intention of the early dinner delivery.

 

Hongjoong reminds himself of this at least a dozen times as he arranges the chicken porridge and sides on the tray. Do _not_ stir shit, he urges himself. Do not stir shit. Do not stir _too much_ shit. Just stir _a little_ shit - just enough to irritate him. A single bag hangs off of his wrist as he carefully takes the tray down to the brig.

 

The captain steels himself as he crosses the threshold. Just entering the tiny jail makes his nerves fray. It’s like he’s entering a demon’s domain, and everything within the boundaries emanates a cursed aura. Hongjoong shakes that thought from his head, embarrassed. This is _his_ ship, _his_ jail - he shouldn’t let his dislike for one person make it feel any less so.

 

“Hm?” The petty officer sits up on cot, surprised. He frowns when he sees the captain approaching. So much for the welcome wagon. “What… Are you doing here?” His pupils dart up as he visibly calculates something. “It hasn’t been that long.”

 

Hongjoong considers whether or not he feels like responding to that. He doesn’t owe the petty officer an explanation (or anything, really). Part of him is tempted to omit the information, just because he can. However, he decides to take the righteous path and not be a total dick. If nothing else, it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing he can exercise self-control. Taking the high ground helps augment his lack of actual, physical height.

 

“Shift of schedule. Might be out late- you knowm, busy on Venus. Which we were graciously welcomed to, by the way,” Hongjoong grunts. “Of course, if this is too early for you, someone could always come back at, like, two in the morning.”

 

Seonghwa crosses his arms defensively, and his eyes dart away, “Whatever.” He spoons the porridge primly into his rosy lips (sometimes Joong wonders if he smuggled in lip tint). Hongjoong chuckles to himself thinking about it.

 

The petty officer blinks confusedly and halts his eating, “I-is something funny?” His brows furrow.

 

“You know,” Joong smirks, “If you looked just a little more severe, you’d be a dead ringer for one of those Venusians.”

 

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Seonghwa retorts, picking his spoon back up to continue eating his porridge.

 

A hearty laugh ejects itself from the captain’s lungs at that, “Of course you would wanna look like one of them. They’re all so- how did Yunho put it? They’re so _shiny_. Is that why you dyed your hair and your irises? To look more shiny?” Hongjoong swears he catches a swath of pink sweep over the PO’s ears, but the prisoner remains frosty as ever.

 

“Venusian aesthetics value quality over quantity. They value minimalism and clean lines in fashion and more artfully express themselves in architecture. Though details may be small and minimal, they’re rich and flawlessly fleshed out-” The platinum blond talks between bites of porridge, “-of course, I suppose all of those concepts are incomprehensible to you.” He sighs. “What a waste.”

 

“A waste?”

 

“Yes. It’s a waste. Someone like you can’t possibly appreciate the beauty of Venus. It’s a perfect, illustrative example of how the right values can make one’s home planet a sanctuary.”

 

“Yeah. Just keep your working class away from the natives since they’re an eye sore and gild every visible public structure. Great values,” Hongjoong says sarcastically.

 

“Did you know littering is a jailable offense in most Venusian countries?”

 

“So you’re a hippie now?”

 

“I’m just saying- I bet you didn’t notice any trash when you were walking the street. Well, except for-” Seonghwa’s eyes do a long, purposeful trip up and down the captain’s body, “-yourself.”

 

“Hm. Cute,” Joong grunts facetiously. “The royal family of Neith didn’t seem to mind. We got to see them speak up close in personal in Denial Plaza.” He gauges the other’s reaction.

 

“Th-the Nile Plaza?”

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

Seonghwa’s spoon clatters onto the tray, and he scrambles to pick it back up. His free hand balls up into a tight fist. Somebody’s jealous.

 

“Now you’re just making things up,” He mutters bitterly under his breath.

 

“You don’t have to believe me,” Hongjoong crosses his arms and shrugs, “Even though I have zero reason to lie to you. Why do you think I brought you this early?”

 

“I try not to dwell on the inner mechanisms of your mind.”

 

“You _try_?” Hongjoong quirks an eyebrow at that - he can’t help it.

 

“I am putting my pride aside to _beg_ you not to purposefully take that the wrong way.”

 

“To be honest I don’t want to take it _any_ way. I want you to take it back.”

 

“What?”

 

“Take it back.”

 

“You want me to-”

 

“ _Un_ think about me,” Joong demands, a look of disgust wrinkling his face. He figures any thoughts Petty Officer Prettyboy has about him involve his head on a pike. Or, perhaps, him hanging from a noose - do they still do those? Gallows? He wonders. There’s also the off chance that he’d be put in a firing line…

 

“I _gladly_ redact my misformed sentence,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

 

A cloud of awkward silence rolls in between the two in lieu of the odd exchange. The soft sound of spoon and chopsticks clicking against dishes echoes down the corridor, and Officer Park’s eyes flit falteringly between his jailor, his food, and the floor. Hongjoong’s not much better, drawing imaginary patterns on the ceilings himself.

 

After an excruciating spell of nothingness, Seonghwa sets his utensils down with an air of finality. He sets his tray back on the door’s slot, and it automatically pulls it through with a soft whirring sound. His blue eyes settle on the captain as if to say: “I’m done. You can leave now.” - or, more likely demanding “Leave for fuck’s sake”.

 

“One more thing,” Hongjoong struggles to meet the other’s eyes as he slides the bag he’d been holding off of his wrist. It’s something that has crossed his mind when he’d strolled the market for himself. He’s not trying to be nice or anything, but it only seems fair and, well, sanitary. Hesitantly - as if the petty officer is gonna bite his hand or something - Hongjoong slides the bag in between the bars.

 

“What… What is this?” Seonghwa gapes, eyes wide with shock.

 

“Change of clothes. Two- two changes of clothes,” Hongjoong chokes out. His heart feels strangely heavy. He didn’t think extending the miniscule shred of kindness to the PO would actually _pain_ him. His guts wrench, a sickening, twisty sensation.

 

When the captain had gone shopping for clothes, he happened to find some basic, secondhand stuff for a reasonable price. (Well, Venus reasonable.) Hongjoong decided that keeping their prisoner in a single set of clothes for an indeterminate amount of time is sort of gross. So, he picked out a few things. Black tops, black sweats, and socks - simple and symbolically indicative of their guest’s status. Of course, he completely eyeballed it and can’t begin to guess how they’ll actually fit. Seonghwa appears to be somewhere between his and Yunho’s size, a range that‘s about as helpful as saying he’s between cat and wolf sized. As long as they can get over the guy’s head and cover a reasonable amount of skin, Hongjoong doesn’t give a rat’s ass if they fit nice. Stuff like laundry he planned to figure out later.

 

Seonghwa timidly reaches into the bag to withdraw its contents. He holds up one of the tops - a boxy, short-sleeved thing with a placket front and center - and compares it to his body. Hongjoong sneaks a peek in spite of himself. He only watches long enough to see that the top looks to be approximately a proper size (and not a second longer). Searing discomfort pricks his cheeks and the tops of his ears, and he begs the question: when will this be over?

 

A terrible mistake is made when Hongjoong’s gaze lingers too long on the other. Their eyes meet. Seonghwa’s lips part like he’s gonna say something, but his face isn’t twisted in his usual grimace of distaste. It’s unsettling. He seems to be wrestling something, like there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Uh-Th-th-““We’ll sort the laundry out later,” The captain blurts out, speaking over the other. “Wait- What was that?”

 

“What was what?”

 

“Did you- You said something,” Hongjoong says.

 

“I did not.”

 

“You did.”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

Joong narrows his eyes at the other incredulously but lets it go. No way he actually heard what he maybe perhaps thought he heard. Not from Pretty Officer Prick Seongtwat (that’s a new one, and he’s pretty proud of it).

 

“Whatever,” The captain shrugs. He grabs the tray off the ledge and heads toward the door.

 

“Wait!” Seonghwa calls after him. “What’s this box?”

 

A giggle involuntarily leaves the captain’s throat, “Found your present?” He’s referring to a little box he’d tucked away under the clothes.

 

“Wh-what the-?”

 

“Nice Venusian lady was trying to get rid of a bunch of those things. Said her kid’s outgrown them, asked me if I happened to know any children,” The captain smirks even though his back is turned to the other. “Told her I had a fussy toddler back home who’d love a new toy.” Hongjoong saw no harm in it at the time. He doesn’t know much about model kits, but the one she’d (politely) pushed on him had a flamboyant picture of a robot and big, colorful text that read: “Fun For Ages 3-5”.

 

Is it a cheap laugh? Yes.

 

Does that make it any less hilarious to ATEEZ’s devilishly dashing captain? God no.

 

“Aren’t you _hilarious_ ,” Seonghwa hisses.

 

“Try not to choke on any of the pieces,” Joong chuckles over his shoulder. “Or, actually- maybe do.”

 

“Laugh it up now. The second you act out of line - which I am _certain_ you will - the Venusian guard will turn you into-“

 

 _“Shunk.”_ The brig’s door slides shut, cutting off Seonghwa’s impassioned lamentations. Fucking drama king.

 

All things considered, that went well. Only a few threats, and no back and forth shouting matches this time. That’s progress. Sure, Hongjoong still feels a remnant ill sensation wriggling under his skin like squirming maggots, but aside from that, he’s totally fine!

 

“You’re welcome,” The captain murmurs so mutedly, even he can barely hear it. Heaving a sigh, he ascends the steps to the living quarters and arduously tries to shake the peculiar, alien image of a grateful Park Seonghwa out of his head.

 

* * *

 

“Party, party, party! Party, party, party!” Wooyoung singsongs as he bounces happily down the marble sidewalk of southeast Sais. After repairing the landing gear, he and Yunho had joined the others in sorting through their new purchases and dolling themselves up for a night on the world’s bougiest town.

 

It’s interesting, Hongjoong thinks, the things one can learn about a man’s ablutions. He and Yunho had always been pretty quick, low-maintenance types. Yunho finished getting ready first, donning a new (well, “new” meaning lightly worn) Venusian suit. It never occurred to Joong earlier, but the fashion suits him. It’s simple and clean, emphasizing the canis’s enviable proportions. Pity they had to bust a hole in it for Yunho’s tail. Hongjoong’s been altering the canis’s clothes since he was allowed to touch his mum’s sewing supplies, and to this day he still gets bummed out every time he has to cut into decent fabric.

 

Admittedly, the captain is a bit more particular about his looks and routines. He spent an almost deplorable amount on some Venusian skincare stuff and lavished in his private bath as he got ready. Hair is always an area of focus for the captain, and he spent probably too much time agonizing over it before settling on a style (parted in the middle, pulled half-up into a plait). Still, aside from spreading some silky jelly on his face and lounging around, he went pretty quick.

 

Jongho - Hongjoong learned - is surprisingly concerned about his hair. It’s nice hair, that the captain agrees with. However, he’s pretty sure that it doesn’t need to be parted three ways only to be set to the way it’d been in the first place.

 

San is a bath hog. The crew extends him some slack for this given his origins and circumstances. If it wasn’t for his love affair with the communal bathroom’s single soaking tub, he’d probably have gotten ready way faster. He’s a natural beauty, so he doesn’t have to do much (lucky him). His glossy, streaked hair falls beautifully no matter what he does, and Hongjoong isn’t sure he even has pores. When they finally managed to drag (yes, physically drag) him out of the tub, he readied himself in a reasonable, expedient fashion.

 

Then there’s Wooyoung. The captain’s tempted to address him as “your majesty” from now on. Apparently, he’d snatched makeup and some pretty sexy clothes to boot. Or maybe the clothes aren’t that sexy and it’s just his insistence on leaving just a few too many buttons open. His ashen blond hair falls in a comely three-quarter part, bangs grazing his forehead, and eyeshadow lends his eyes a subtle smokiness. For the first time, Hongjoong gets it. He gets why people crane their necks when Wooyoung passes, and he can definitely understand why bar patrons in KQ would want to engage him in less prestigious lines of work. Wooyoung is damn lucky he’s hot, because he took _forever_ to get ready. Hongjoong figured when the royal family said “six o’clock sharp”, they meant it. He nearly strangled the guy when he strolled out of his room at ten to six. That obstacle aside, ATEEZ set off. For the first time in - well, ever - they set out with one simple, non-threatening objective: to have a good time. (Just not too good.)

 

With the sun’s completion of its job roasting the Venusian surface, desaturated lavender and indigo tones replace vivid cerulean. Soft, warm light glows from the streetlamps lining the streets. They’re far and few between due to how readily the surrounding buildings reflect the light back and forth.

 

He, more than anyone, seems eager to join the Venusian festivities. Perhaps _too_ eager. They haven’t even reached the Nile Plaza, and Hongjoong is already worried about losing him. _Great_.

 

The closer they get to the palace, the thicker the crowd grows yet again. They join a procession of delighted Venusians and eager visitors from far and wide. Once again, the natives are easy to pick out from the crowd. If their height isn’t enough, their clothes ought to be. Unlike the lustrous, simple textiles of the daytime, rich, delicate patterns adorn their night clothes. Flowing gowns cascade down to the floor, swaying gracefully in the light breeze. Those with more modest tastes don fitted jackets with luxurious embellishments and appliques. Hongjoong almost fears they’re underdressed, but seeing the other visitors reassures him. The veritable rainbow of people wear everything from tuxedos to tunics.

 

“D’you have big parties like this where you’re from?” “Suitengu’s a fairly large commune- er, city I guess.” “That’s what it’s called.” “Mhm!” “I am gonna gorge myself!” “Did those clothes fit the petty officer?” “Who cares?!” “I dunno, they looked fine to me.” “We actually have some pretty impressive celebrations for the equinox and solstice. Plus Poseidon’s day…” “Do you think they’re gonna, like, moderate how much we can eat?” “I dunno. Seems like these people are throwing a rager just to show off how rich they are. Limits contradict that.” “I wonder how Venusians feel about shortish guys. Like- I’m still handsome, right?” “Short _ish_?” “Shut up, Yunho.” “How do you cure a hangover under water-?”

 

Cheery, aimless conversation bounces around the group as they make their way toward the palace with a fancy name Hongjoong can’t remember. Droves of people approach the massive estate, converging at the plaza. In spite of the sheer number, everyone remains considerate of one another’s personal space, and people file into the gates in an orderly fashion. It would be more surprising if it wasn’t for the literal wall of guards cradling people-sized rifles like they’re showing off their prized possession.

 

ATEEZ passes through the gates (avoiding eye contact with the guards lining each side of the massive marble walkway). After what feels like a pilgrimage, they finally approach the impressive castle of Neith. Their jaws collectively drop to the floor, and they slow down to gawk at the devastatingly spectacular structure.

 

A giant, gaping arch carved from gleaming gold welcomes all who enter. Mosaic gemstone windows line the arch, scaling up from slight toward the ground to a single, massive one top and center. Ornately carved parapets jut out from each tier, the tops of them inset with fanciful, finicky gold detailing, and light twinkles off of the castle’s pearlescent exterior. Hongjoong gawks in utter astonishment at the grandness of just the _entryway_. He could stand and stare for hours and be content with how he’d spent the night.

 

“No appreciation for architecture my ass,” He grumbles to himself.

 

“What was that?” San asks.

 

“Nothing,” Hongjoong huffs. He takes the first step forward, prompting the others to stop their own gawking and follow.

 

Everything about the castle and the party within is gorgeous, state of the art, and elegant. The silken drapes drawn from the windows are so lustrous, they look like they’re made of liquid, pouring down from the window framing. The iridescent tiles beneath their feet make swirling patterns, and they’re polished so pristinely that they reflect the intricate vaulted ceiling above. The chandeliers in the castle do not hang, they _float_. Myriad crystal torches hold glowing orbs of light, and they orbit around abstract gemstone sculptures.

 

All of it is refined and elegant. Every detail of this entire affair had clearly been carefully planned and artfully crafted to be unrivaled in luxury and sophistication.

 

Except for _one_ aspect.

 

One single, bizarre, completely out of place thing contrasts greatly with the entire event: the music.

 

Hongjoong had expected something like what he’d heard at the gathering in the plaza. He’d anticipated strings and horns, minstrels in flamboyant costumes strumming out pretentions, plucky staccato notes.

 

Not bumping bass and trilling synth sounds. _Definitely_ not husky rapping over the heavy hip-hop beats. So it’s a _party_ party. Hongjoong can’t help but grin. He wonders: was this the prince’s choice? Maybe royalty is more normal than he’d thought.

 

“Okay guys,” Hongjoong says as they pass through the grand foyer into what appears to be the main ballroom. At least, that’s what the ninety meter buffet tables and floating DJ platform implies. “I’m just as pumped about this as you are, but remember, our presence here is _very precarious_ . I’m fine with having fun, but let’s keep our heads down- and _try_ to return home in the morning. Tomorrow we can stock up some more and ask about the Compass. I’m fine with having fun, but use your heads. We are surrounded by royal guard and-“

 

The captain glances over his shoulder to see if anyone’s paying attention.

 

There is no “anyone” - they’re all gone. Just. Gone. He just barely makes out the top of Yunho’s head in the distance, bounding toward a buffet table. That’s it. The rest of them? Gone with the Venusian wind.

 

“Oh- For _fuck’s_ sake,” The captain groans.

 

* * *

 

Glorious, mouth-watering smells waft into Yunho’s nose ceaselessly. Woody, herbal rosemary and earthy sage are unmistakable, no doubt a rub for poultry. Spicy notes tickle his nose - hot peppers and curry spices coming from stews. Fragrant, tart fruit is laid out next to sumptuous, dense cakes and light, airy creams. He doesn’t even care how deafening the music is - how can he when there’s so much food just waiting to be _eaten_. His tail wags rapidly at the mere thought of it.

 

The closer he gets to the spread, the more his mouth waters. In the distance, he can see chefs cutting fresh meat off the bone. Juices ooze from the ginormous cuts of meat, and each delicate slice reveals more of the tender, pink inside.

 

“Thank you,” Yunho presses his hands together and looks up as if in prayer. He’s never been really religious, but he might reconsider after this. They’ve been through so much pure, utter _shit_. It’s about time things went right for once!

 

The canis eagerly enters the fast-moving queue and heaps a golden plate with as much meat as he can reasonably fit. Some he recognizes: cow, pig, chicken. Some he doesn’t - things cut into gamey smelling steaks and poultry so tiny that the entire thing fits in his palm. There’s only one thing missing.

 

“Drink, sir?” A skinny Venusian lady asks with a courteous smile.

 

“Huh- M-me?” Yunho’s a hundred percent sure he’s never been called sir in his life.

 

“Yes, of course,” She replies. Sparkling crystal glasses sit atop the reflective tray balanced perfectly in her hand. She extends it toward him with a flourish. “A five decade vintage from the region of Cassini.”

 

A five decade _what_? Yunho’s face scrunches reflexively with puzzlement.

 

Whether out of genuine consideration or rehearsed politeness, she elaborates, “Our famous Venusian wine, sir.”

 

 _Wine_. Yunho understands that.

 

“O-Oh, yes please! Thank you,” He grins sheepishly and takes a glass. A few cab tabletops float around, metallic linens draping lavishly toward the ground. He finds one and starts digging in. The humecanis almost ascends to heaven when he sinks his teeth into his first bite of juicy, tender meat.

 

No, he thinks. One can’t ascend to heaven if they’re already there.

 

* * *

 

“I can honestly say I’ve never danced on dry land,” San chuckles sheepishly as Wooyoung pulls him by the wrist toward the center of the ballroom. Though not explicitly mark, consensus appears to be that the center is the dance floor. And, apparently, Wooyoung has decided that he has to show San what a “real dancefloor” is all about.

 

“Well that’s gonna change,” Wooyoung chuckles, pulling San between cliques of people chatting and drinking. The siren feels his chest swell a bit at that. He’s been away from Ubureru for such a short time, but it already feels like an eternity. He’s flown halfway across the galaxy, spent time on a _real starship_ , and now he’s attending a gala on _Venus_. He didn’t even know about Venus just days ago.

 

Venus is beautiful, the food is beautiful, the music is - well, it’s not beautiful, but it’s fun. More than anything else: the company is beautiful.

 

There’s a lot of people, a lot of types of people San had never known about. There’s humanoids with pointed ears and a few with scales. Venusians are tall and slender while others are short and stocky. It’s much less homogenous than his home, buthj he supposes part of that is due to the marriage bringing in so many people. Of course, San doesn’t know for certain. There’s still so much he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know where everyone’s coming from or why Venus is so exclusive. Also-

 

“I don’t know how to dance,” The siren admits. Singing? That comes naturally, it’s second nature to him. And, yes, beneath the surface he’d been well practiced in dancing. However, on land? His confidence pitfalls.

 

“Neither does anyone here,” Wooyoung snarks with a grin. Soon they cross the unmarked threshold from ballroom to dancefloor. People no longer stand still but sway and step in rhythm with one another. The variety of different movesets is mind boggling to San, and he’s not sure what he ought to adopt.

 

“You look lost,” A mirthy voice sounds out next to San. He jumps, startled because the voice does not belong to his closest human companion, but to a total stranger. Eyes wide, the siren’s head whips to face the invader of his personal space. It’s a young Venusian woman - perhaps the prettiest woman San has ever seen in his life. She’s tall and fit, and a luminous, peachy flush grazes her high cheekbones. He concedes that bar is low, considering he’d grown up around the same girls in his tribe for decades. Still, he’s awestruck by the woman so casually glowing next to him.

 

“U-Uh, do I?” San croaks out, unsure how to proceed. He’s not entirely concrete on normal humanoid mannerisms, and he doesn’t want to garner any unwanted attention.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Wooyoung swoops in to save the day, slinging an arm around the siren’s shoulders. “It’s his first party.”

 

“Aw! How do you like it so far?” The woman asks.

 

“It’s… A lot,” San doesn’t lie. He neglects to mention how it’s simultaneously intriguing and anxiety inducing. “Venus is a very interesting place. I’m still absorbing the customs.”

 

“Well,” The girl grins mischievously, “One custom is that if a native Venusian invites a guest to share a drink, they have to join. It’s customary.” Her eyes shift to Wooyoung.

 

The human grins widely, “Seems like a nice custom.”

 

“My friends snagged a table over there. Have you tried the wine yet?” She asks the two of them.

 

“Uh- No.” “Not yet.”

 

“Come, come,” She beckons them half-jokingly with a finger. “You cannot deny us.”

 

“After you,” Wooyoung replies. The Venusian woman leads them toward a small table in the distance, and the human leans in to whisper to the siren, “Now _that_ is how you dance on land.”

 

San’s brow furrows in confusion, “B-but we’re not even dancing.”

 

“Not yet,” Wooyoung smirks. “But soon.”

 

San wishes he knew what the hell that meant. He doesn’t question it, though. If Wooyoung says that’s what they ought to do, it’s what they ought to do - right? The siren swallows down the prickly lump of dread rising in his throat. He’d never thought of himself as shy before, but for some reason, the idea of spending time with random people irks him. He contemplates the feeling, pondering if it’s to do with how isolated his upbringing was.

 

They reach the table all too soon, and charm replaces reflection. That’s something he’s confident in - being captivating and charming.

 

“Hi!” “Where are you from?” “Hello.” “Nice to meet you!” “You have to introduce your friend.” “Oh, look! His majesty the Prince is at the DJ booth-!” “Let’s hurry up and dance.” “After you-” A flurry of excited chatter greets them immediately.

 

The siren tosses aside his personal reservations and flashes a big, dimpled smile. If that’s what makes the others happy, then he’ll do it. Hopefully, he’ll start to enjoy himself too. San had never anticipated feeling so out of his element.

 

* * *

 

A happy, warm buzz runs through Yunho’s veins. His pace is lumbering at best as he stumbles out of the fanciful erected commodes outside the ballroom. He feels so full and content, he’s not sure if his stomach has ever had so much good food in it. Not to mention the drink.

 

Venusian wine tastes like heaven. Literal, liquid heaven. It’s called wine, but Yunho isn’t sure the label fits. He associates wine with bitter tannins and a dry feeling left on the tongue. Sure, some are sweet and mild, like juice, but they all have sort of a pungency. Venusian wine is almost like syrup. The flavor is tart and puckering with just enough sweetness to make it irresistible. There’s the faintest bite to it, just enough to assure the person drinking that it’s alcoholic.

 

Of course, it’s not like anyone drinking the stuff needs assurance for long.

 

Yunho’s vision swirls ever so slightly at the edges. Merry, smiling faces smudge and smear in his peripherals, and all the smells that had so well pronounced themselves smush together. Loud bass thunders through the ballroom, reverberating through the floor and knocking on the canis’s ribcage.

 

This is great.

 

Venus is great.

 

 _Everything_ is great.

  
God, Yunho loves everyone.

 

His tail wags giddily as he surveys the crowd for anyone he knows. It’s dense and confusing and his vision is compromised, so he comes up nada. Oh well - he shrugs it off. He’ll find them eventually.

  
Suddenly, something catches the light, and Yunho’s complete and utter attention is drawn to it. A little twinkle catches something sitting on a cart pushed by castle staff. Yunho squints. Something looks oddly familiar. The cogs in his head turn and churn until finally recognizing the cart’s contents.

  
Venusian wine.

 

Good ass, delicious ass, boozey ass Venusian wine.

 

The stuff that’d gotten them thrown into jail in the first place. In a way, Venusian wine is the reason they’d ended up on the planet itself. He wonders just how much a bottle goes for. From what he’d heard, Venus doesn’t export wine period. It’s given to a very lucky few as gifts. That’s why trafficking the stuff is so lucrative (and illegal). Yunho can’t blame people for wanting the stuff, it’s - no exaggeration - the most delicious spirit he’s ever had in his life. It’s probably the most fantastic alcoholic beverage he will ever drink in his life.

 

That’s when an idea lights up in his head.

 

There’s so much wine here and so many people. Would they notice one, maybe two bottles missing?

 

Okay - so the captain said keep a low profile. Who says that Yunho can’t commit petty theft _with a low profile_?

 

The canis scans the room. There’s guards along the wall, poised, uptight and upright. They keep vigilant watch over the ballroom, but it’s crowded and Venusians are tall. It’s easy to slip away. Yunho watches the person he’d seen before cart the wine behind one of the pop-up bars. A few words are exchanged, and the cart is unloaded quickly before the barback starts rolling the shiny little thing back from whence he came.

 

Prey located.

 

Even buzzed, Yunho’s got keen senses, and he’s more confident in them than ever. The canis carefully weaves through people, eyes fixed on the empty cart all the while. He watches the barback roll his cart toward a corridor. Good, Yunho thinks, he’s not behind closed doors - at least not yet. It’ll be tricky, he infers. Less crowd to get lost in. However, tracking will be so much easier.

 

Yunho follows from a safe distance, keeping parallel to his target as he slips between throngs of happy, laughing folks. He manages to do so without rousing any sort of suspicion or even a second glance. The humecanis mutters a few “excuse me”s and apologies when he bumps into people on accident. Eventually, the barback disappears into the corridor at the far corner of the room. It’s a bit odd - a random partygoer walking into a random corridor, far away from where the festivities are going on. However, the place is big and chock full of guests and visitors from across the galaxy. One lost humecanis certainly can’t cause enough alarm to prompt immediate subjagation. Hopefully.

 

A particularly large group of people cross in front of the corridor - just some rich looking attendees making their way to the nearest bar. That’s when Yunho makes his move. He strides quickly, walking through the cluster to use them for cover.

 

For an instant, anxiety drapes itself around the canis. He enters the corridor, putting on his best calm, definitely-not-contemplating-theft expression. He glances left and right, but the hall is surprisingly empty. His shoulders sag with relief, and he proceeds down the long hall.

 

Away from the main commotion of everything, it’s about ten degrees cooler and twenty times easier to see, smell, and hear. It matches the rest of the castle, all gold and iridescent pearl tones. The barback had disappeared around a corner somewhere, but without distractions, Yunho is assured he can track him better. More importantly, he can track the wine.

 

Yunho takes a few short inhalations, trying to get a sense of the halls. He can pick up a few offshooting trails. The smell of wine is faint - far down the hall and to the right. Not eager to stick in place too long, Yunho follows that scent trail - the one with that hint of syrupy sweetness.

 

The sound of percussive bass fades to a gentle thrum when he rounds the corner. Yunho takes a few more deep breaths to clear his head a bit. He takes a few steps down and takes another breath. Sniff, sniff, step, step.

 

He freezes, and his hair stands on end.

 

Yunho takes another few steps forward but abruptly stops.

 

_“Thud-thud.”_

  
The sound is soft and distant, just at the corner where the two hallways meet. But it’s there, undeniably so.

 

Step, step, sniff, sniff.

 

_“Thud. Thud.”_

 

A few steps forward, and an unfamiliar smell enters Yunho’s nose. It’s got woody bottom notes with a traces of a fresh, floral top note. It’s cologne-esque, but not overwhelmingly artificial or perfumey. The composition is natural, nice. It doesn’t completely mask the underlying sweat, though. The sound of footsteps and the smell of a person.

 

Yunho is being followed.

 

The feeling of eyes on his backside bores into him, and paranoia slowly seeps into his bloodstream where glibness had once been. Yunho continues walking. Maybe he can shake them off and play stupid.

 

_“Thud-thud-thud-”_

 

The boots continue their pursuit, and worry pulls Yunho’s tail down between his legs. He takes up a brisk pace, but the person following him matches it. No, he realizes. Even worse, they go faster. Yunho spots another corner up ahead and he takes long strides walking toward it. Nervousness transitions more and more into panic as he realizes his pursuer is not letting up.

 

Not daring a look over his shoulder, Yunho zooms around the corner, searching desperately for cover. His heart patters in his chest, and his palms clam up with sweat. Behind him, a low voice sounds out.

 

“☟︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ♌︎□︎⍓︎-”

 

Oh hell no. Yunho does not know a word of Venusian, and he sure as hell isn’t interested in finding out what the hell the man (clearly, the voice is that of a man) had said.

 

Salvation comes to him in the form of a deserted cater cart sitting just outside a door. The linen on top of it drapes over the side and grazes the ground.

 

“🏱︎◆︎◻︎◻︎⍓︎-?”

 

The voice sounds a bit louder now, like the person’s peeking around the corner. Yunho curses internally and makes a dive for the cart. It’s not that big, but he manages to stuff his long body into the lower tier.

 

Then, he waits.

 

_“Thud-thud-thud… Thud. Thud. Thud…”_

 

Footsteps approach the cart slowly. Way too slowly. Yunho clamps a hand over his face to stifle the sound of his breathing.

 

Everything goes mute.

 

The sound of boots against tile ceases, and though the person’s scent persists, they don’t seem to be moving. Yunho remains still as a statue, awkwardly cramped, hidden beneath a table cloth. His joints start to cramp. Like that, he waits. He waits and waits and waits. He waits so long that he feels himself coming down from the buzz he’d gotten earlier. That’s when it occurs to him that maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this was a _really bad_ idea.

 

_“Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud…”_

 

The sound of footsteps resumes, and Yunho locks up, petrified with fear. He watches the figure’s shadow cross in front of the cart.

 

 _“Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud-”_ Then they stop.

 

“👎︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ♌︎♏︎ ⬧︎♍︎♋︎❒︎♏︎♎︎…” The man says softly. It’s probably a trick, taking a nice, cooing tone to coax the canis out.

 

A few more moments pass in utter silence, then finally, finally, the person takes a few steps back.

 

_“Thud. Thud. Thud…”_

 

Yunho’s body slackens, and the tension leaves his body in a hushed sigh of relief. Much to his chagrin, that alleviation is very, very premature. A hand closes around his tail.

 

“✋︎ 🙰◆︎⬧︎⧫︎ ⬥︎♋︎■︎■︎♋︎ ◻︎♏︎⧫︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎.”

  
_“Fwip.”_ The table cloth that had been his crucial cover is flipped up with a soft sound.

 

Yunho’s eyes blow wide open as he’s brought face to face with his Venusian maker.

 

He looks at the young man.

 

The man looks back at him.

 

They lock gazes, and Yunho - like any sensible visitor would do - screams. Just as startled, the Venusian also screams, and suddenly their howls fill the hall, ricocheting off of the gilded surfaces frenziedly.

 

The man starts to speak,“🕈︎♋︎♓︎⧫︎-”

 

“Aaah-! N-No, this is a misunderstanding!” Yunho screams. He jolts, trying to get away.

 

_“Thunk!”_

 

Pain. Throbbing, sharp pain. The point of impact is somewhere around Yunho’s temple, and it radiates across his entire head. That’s the last thing he registers before everything fades to black.

 

* * *

 

“Where d’you think the prince has gone?” “I’m not sure.” “You know, I’ve heard he’s been dragging his feet throughout the entire process.” “It’s clear he’s not ready to get married.” “Where did he go?” “I think he’ll make a fine king one day.” “Perhaps he’s running away from his bride.” “Prince Mingi’s a tad shy- we know this.”

 

Hongjoong groans. Left and right all he hears is gossip about the prince who has apparently disappeared. The captain couldn’t give fewer fucks if he tried. He’s more worried about his missing crew than any royalty. For fuck’s sake, he probably had to take a leak, Joong figures. He’d lost them over an hour ago and even though they’re all in one room, he’s not found any of them.

 

Until now.

 

Joong sighs with relief when he sees a familiar stocky figure in the middle of a circle of people. Looks like Jongho is doing _swell_. He splits an apple triumphantly with his bare hands - holy fuck, he can do that? No wonder he’s got an audience.

 

“Oh- Oh, can you do a pear?”

 

“Pears are kinda soft,” Jongho chuckles sheepishly. “They don’t break nicely.”

 

“What about a melon.”

 

“Actually, I can.”

 

“No!” “No way!” “Someone- get a melon, quick!”

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Hongjoong cuts in, flashing a genial smile to the swooning Venusians. “Can I steal him?”

 

Jongho smiles at his adoring fans, giving them a wave, “I’ll catch you guys in a bit.”

 

“Okay.” “Come find us!” “Don’t be a stranger.” “Come right back!” His little gaggle of fanpeople titters.

 

Hongjoong takes Jongho by the arm, leading him a small distance away to a relatively uninhabited corner of the ballroom, “Fuck’s sake what have you been doing for the past hour?”

 

“Well-” Jongho glances behind him, “-that.” He shrugs.

 

“You’ve been splitting apples for an hour?”

 

“I mean- Kind of. First I started talking to them, and, well, they’re really cute and nice. And very, very easily amused.”

 

“Well I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Joong replies dryly.

 

“Did you pull me aside to say that?” Jongho purses his lips incredulously.

 

“No, I just- Have you seen Yunho? Or anyone else for that matter? I just wanna make sure that nobody’s doing something really, really stupid.”

 

Jongho shrugs, “Yunho made a mad dash to the food when we walked in. I haven’t seen him since. I think San and Wooyoung were dancing er- Actually, there’s San-” He points across the room. Shockingly, San stands alone at the edge of the room, leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand.

 

“He… Doesn’t look happy,” Hongjoong notes, a frown crossing his face.

 

“Yeah, no kidding. Hm,” Jongho grunts. “I assumed he and Wooyoung would be joined at the hip.”

 

“Me too… Well, Wooyoung’s not his keeper you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s just something that- I mean- Nevermind. Look, if you happen to run into Yunho - assuming he hasn’t passed out under a table from a food coma - tell him to find me. I just wanted us to stick together is all. Less chances of us getting arrested if we can keep an eye out for each other.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Jongho answers, clearly not giving half the fucks his dutiful words imply.

 

“Alright, go back to your Venusian harem,” Hongjoong says, waving Jongho away.

 

“Thank you,” Jongho beams, scampering back off into the crowd to find his little clique.

 

“Make good choices!” The captain calls after his youngest friend. Jongho doesn’t answer that, and soon his slight figure disappears behind a wall of tall Venusians. Figures, Hongjoong thinks. It’s easy to forget Jongho’s magnetism. No surprises he fits in well. He’s bright, fun, and witty. Hopefully he doesn’t fit in too well and decide to stay. Joong would miss the crap out of him.

 

The captain scans the room again, hoping to find signs of Wooyoung or Yunho. He spots neither but recalls that San is being a wallflower across the room. A bad feeling creeps up the captain’s ribcage as he heads toward the siren to ask him what’s going on. He hopes that San isn’t overstimulated or anxious. A huge party isn’t exactly the easiest transition into life on land. Hongjoong still doesn’t know much about siren culture, and he can’t say if this is the sort of thing San feels comfortable with at all. The siren is bubbly and fun - it _seems_ like he would love a party like this, but his sullen expression says otherwise.

 

“There you are,” Hongjoong says, joining San’s side on the wall.

 

San grips a tumbler with watered down amber liquid in it and stares off into space.

 

“Hello?” The captain tries again. “San?” Hongjoong follows the other’s zoned out gaze. He squints, and through a few shifting and shuffling groups of people, he recognizes an ash blond with smokey eyes and surprisingly good dance moves. Wooyoung dances happily in the middle of half a dozen people. Hongjoong had thought the Venusians pretty stuffy, but apparently the younger generations can party with the rest of them. Personal space doesn’t seem to exist - at least not among Wooyoung’s company.

 

Oh no.

 

Oh _no_.

 

Hongjoong knows what this is. He knows what this is and god, does he hate it. He hates that San feels this way and even more than that he hates that, in some capacity, he’s probably about to get involved.

 

“Would you say Wooyoung is promiscuous?” San finally speaks and he might as well have told Hongjoong straight up: I’m mad at him right now. Fuck.

 

“U-um. I…” Hongjoong literally does not know how to answer that. He doesn’t know Wooyoung well enough - at least not in that way. He can make an educated guess based on a few nuggets he’s heard from the guy. Unfortunately, that guess is probably not what San wants to hear. “Why do you ask?”

 

San frowns, “I suppose I should’ve known. Considering our circumstances of meeting I mean- it should’ve been obvious.”

 

“Your- your circumstances?” Not those again, Hongjoong thinks. The whole reason they’d nearly gotten killed on Ubureru had _something_ to do with those mysterious “circumstances”. Hongjoong believed that what had transpired was completely platonic and that the siren’s kiss is just a symbolic moniker for whatever transference had occurred.

 

“Well, you see, when Wooyoung met me I was nude-”

 

“You were what?”

 

“-and I seduced him with the intention of killing him.”

 

“I- You- you sed- what?”

 

“I just- I really should have realized.”

 

“Okay, okay, can you just- just rewind for me?” Hongjoong asks. Does he really want to get between the relationship of two people? No. Does he want this to fester and end up in resentment? Also no. Joong believes in being direct and talking things out. Even if he _really_ doesn’t want to involve himself in the issues of others, his inclination to maintain the peace overrides that. “Can you just tell me how you’re feeling? Like- Where you’re at?”

 

San blinks confusedly. He probably hadn’t been expecting that much forthrightness. He pauses, considering the question a bit before delivering an answer.

 

“I- I think that’s the issue. I don’t know where I’m ‘at’,” San admits. He fidgets with his fingers awkwardly as he lays his authentic thoughts down, “I guess I’m still sort of lost- like I’m floating in open water. Wooyoung is…” He trails off momentarily, gazing at the other in the distance. “I guess he was a sort of anchor for me.”

 

Hongjoong nods in affirmation and understanding.

 

San continues, “But now I’m starting to wonder if- if maybe that was imprudent. To rely on him like that, I mean.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Hongjoong feels like he knows the answer, but it’s better to hear it from the source.

 

“He’s very… Friendly. Maybe he’s just very kind,” The siren shrugs. “I- I just am not sure I feel comfortably being so close to someone like that. Someone who’ll stretch themselves thin and bend over backwards for anyone. How can I matter to a person like that?”

 

Joong gets the distinct feeling San is not talking about “bending over backwards” in the metaphorical sense. He gives San points for keeping it classy, at least. He could’ve easily just said “I don’t like that he’s sort of a whore and I'm getting a bit jealous”.

 

“Friendly?” Hongjoong chuckles. “Look I- it’s not like that, trust me. That-” He points to the dancing blond with his thumb, “-is fake.”

 

“Fake?”

 

“Yes, fake. Phony. Not real. Like- Yes, Wooyoung _is_ enjoying himself, but the side of himself he shows those people is- it’s different.”

 

“It’s… Different?”

 

“Yeah- I mean, come on, you’ve got to notice. Does he act like that around you? All- I dunno, loud and boisterous and ‘wooooo!’-?”

 

San lets out a laugh (thank goodness), “Woo?”

 

“You get what I mean. Okay- Look at that Wooyoung that’s like- he describes it as ‘customer service’. He’s just selling himself, showing off a superficial side so he can have a good time.”

 

“He finds fun in… Fakery?”

 

“Listen,” The captain throws his hands up, “I’m sort of guessing. Honestly, you should just try asking _him_. My point is that there’s more to him than what you’re seeing here. He’s definitely a lot more reserved than he lets on, and I promise you the side of him you get is way more genuine than what these people see. He’s not bending over backwards for anyone unless he really, really gives a shit. Or - like when we met - if his life depends on it. And you should know that by now.”

 

He hopes the little dad-esque pep talk works (and that it’s vague enough not to tip Wooyoung off that he’d spilled a bit).

 

“I feel beyond foolish,” San laughs wryly and wrings his free hand through his hair. There’s a flush across his cheeks, evidence that the drink in his hand is far from his first.

 

“You’ve probably had a bit too much to drink and you’re overthinking stuff,” Hongjoong says. “Just shut your brain off and have a good time.”

 

“Like him?” San asks, nodding toward Wooyoung who’s sandwiched between a few very attractive Venusians.

 

“Have fun like yourself,” Hongjoong replies with a laugh. “Oh- Speaking of fun, have you seen Yunho?”

 

San shakes his head, “Oh, no, actually. He was going to eat. That was over an hour ago, though.”

 

A Venusian couple walks by, chattering loudly: “Where is his majesty?” “I hope he doesn’t do this on his wedding day.” “Where could he have possibly gone?” “I last saw him talking to the Duke of…”

 

Hongjoong and San exchange dubious looks.

 

The captain mutters,“You don’t think-”

 

“No,” San shakes his head.

 

“Right. He- He wouldn’t-”

 

“He couldn’t-”

 

Hongjoong laughs, “There’s no way his disappearance correlates with the prince’s. That would be _ridiculous_.”

 

* * *

 

Dull pain washes over Yunho, rousing him back to a state of hazy awareness. Warm light enters his bleary, half-lidded eyes. He blinks confusedly in an attempt to clear his vision. When everything stops swimming around in abstract, smeared shapes, he manages to distinguish some of his surroundings. He sees… A ceiling? It’s painted with all sorts of fanciful carvings. It doesn’t look familiar. It smells sort of different, too. There’s a distinct clean fragrance floating throughout the space - the smells of laundered linens and soapy floor wax. Lingering just above them is something slightly more familiar. That masculine, woody scent with bright top note persists.

 

As awareness gradually returns, Yunho catalogues the sensations in his body. Most jarringly obvious is the pain in his head. Aside from that, his body feels… Heavy - but not necessarily weighed down. Just fatigued. He’s not encumbered in any way thank god. There’s nothing tying him down or restricting movement. However, what he lies upon isn’t the cold, hard ground of the corridor he’d been walking on.

 

On the contrary, it’s soft, almost cloud like. The canis has to stop himself from keening at it. He’s on top of something silky and cushiony - the softest mattress he’d ever laid on.

 

Wait - a mattress?

 

Yunho bursts upright. Dizziness sends the world whirling around him, and the fanciful room he’d ended up in starts spinning. Even with the hazy mirages dancing in front of his face, he can kind of make out the type of place he’d ended up in. It’s massive and open, and there’s a huge opening to a balcony on one side. Swaying and blurry in front of him is what looks like a vanity of sorts - if vanities were as big as a dining room table, anyways. The colors of the place sort of run into one aonther, but the canis can at least make out warm, earthy wood tones and subdued reds. It’s a complete contrast from the cold, stark textures and palettes of the other places.

 

The room around him starts solidifying, and that’s when the canis notices something again. He feels it just like he had before, the itching notion that he’s being watched. Someone’s leer burrows into his back, and his heart sinks with panic. Chest compressed with dread, Yunho slowly turns to glance over his shoulders. Frigid fear freezes the blood in his veins when he makes eye contact with him. The Venusian man from before sits casually on the huge mattress, watching the canis silently. It’s the same man who he’d run into before. The one who’s probably about to kill him for his transgressions and use his tail as a wall decoration.

 

“Please- Please don’t hurt me,” Yunho whimpers pathetically as terror takes over. He scoots away from the other, eyes wide and heart practically breaking out of his chest. “It was a misunderstanding! I- I was lost!”

 

The Venusian gasps, “W-wait-!” He extends a hand toward Yunho. “Please wait, you’re still hurt!”

 

“N-No, I- I didn’t do it- I wasn’t doing anything,” Yunho blubbers, not listening to the other.

 

“Just- Just settle down, I’m sorry to have alarmed you!” The man follows Yunho.

 

The canis yelps and scrambles back. He clumsily runs out of bed, and his ass abruptly drops to the floor. Ouch. The sharp pain strikes his hip bones and shoots up his spine. Yunho winces but continues shuffling away the best he can.

 

“I- I’m really sorry,” He cowers. His peppy, overconfident buzz is completely gone now. Replaced with nothing but dread. “I didn’t mean to- I-“

 

“What are you talking about?” The man asks. “You- You hurt yourself, please, just- just settle down.” His voice is… Soft. Husky and deep, yes, but soft.

 

Yunho stops hiding behind his hand and takes pause. He wipes the remnant grogginess out of his eyes and looks at the Venusian, really looks at him. He’s met with the sight of a very concerned young man - probably about his age.  The Venusian looks just as bewildered as the humecanis feels.

 

Then, Yunho’s jaw drops. Something akin to acute nerves and severe shock constricts his throat. He tries to say something, but he just chokes instead. The man in front of him isn’t just some Venusian citizen of Neith.

 

Bent over and fussing over Yunho is none other than the Prince of Neith. Prince Song Mingi. The guy who’s visuals basically incapacitated Yunho just hours earlier in the plaza. The young man who brought people from far reaches of the universe just to celebrate his wedding. That Prince Song Mingi.

 

“Are you alright?” Prince Mingi asks concernedly. There’s a demureness to his tone that completely contradicts his harsh outer appearance.

 

Yes? No? Maybe? Yunho really doesn’t know how to answer it. Sweltering heat laps up and down his body, making him sweaty and uncomfortable.

 

“Uh,” Yunho grunts dumbly. He’s still in awe.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I must’ve startled you earlier,” The Prince apologizes. To _him_. A junker from an obscure Earth nobody gives a shit about. “Of course you wouldn’t understand Venusian. You must be an esteemed guest.”

 

Esteemed. Yeah, sure. Yunho still can’t quite summon the nerve to answer his majesty verbally, so he just nods instead. He looks around again to clear his head. Just like he’d seen before, there’s a big balcony and huge vanity. Something like a massive wardrobe spans the wall opposite the vanity, and in the center is a round bed so huge it could probably fit a dozen people comfortably. A sheer canopy cascades down from the ceiling, surrounding the huge mattress, probably for the privacy of the sleeper. Fancy. Aside from the obviously royal furnishings, there’s a few minor touches that don’t necessarily fit the bill. Some random knick knacks sit on top of the dressing table, and a few holo pictures float in front of the walls. This isn’t just some dressed up bedroom. This is someone’s personal bedroom.

 

This is _his_ personal bedroom.

 

“Why don’t you sit on the bed, it’s probably more comfortable than the floor,” The Prince graciously offers.

 

Fuck.

 

Yunho wonders if he’s actually truly alive and conscious right now. After all, in real life there’s no way someone like Prince Mingi would be so nice to him. Dream or not, Yunho opts to follow his kind host’s advice and perches on the bed again. The cushy mattress sinks beneath his weight as he hoists himself back up.

 

Prince Mingi bites on his lower lip and inspects Yunho up and down. For a second, Yunho wonders if this is when reality comes crashing down on him and he gets his ass kicked for wandering around. However, instead of imparting harsh words to the canis, the Prince withdraws a small tablet from his shiny, tailored jacket. He taps the screen, and it comes to life. His majesty carefully holds his tablet out next to Yunho and just… Leaves it there. Without so much as a verbal command prompt, the tablet floats in place. Neat.

 

The Prince’s gaze flits between the screen and Yunho. His eyes do this dance a few times - from screen to Yunho, screen to Yunho, until he finally utters something.

 

“You look… Different,” Prince Mingi says softly.

 

Yunho quirks an eyebrow. _What_ did he just say?

 

The canis glances at the tablet floating next to him, and he sees why Prince Mingi is so confused. Displayed on the tablet is a looping video of a golden retriever fetching a ball. The dog’s tail wags rapidly as it races toward the bright yellow tennis ball. When it snatches the thing in it’s mouth, it looks incredibly pleased and hops up triumphantly.

 

Prince Mingi purses his lips, “I’ve never seen a puppy before. They don’t allow dogs in Neith- my great-grandparents decreed it, saying they’re too filthy.”

 

Filthy? Yunho isn’t even an actual dog, but he takes offense to that.

 

“I- I just wanted to pet a puppy,” The Prince pouts - actually pouts. “I thought maybe my parents made an exception for the wedding and all.” He looks so sad, so dejected. Suddenly, Yunho can’t find it in himself to be offended at being likened to a “filthy” animal. “They- they look so cute.”

 

What’s more shocking to Yunho is how cute Prince Mingi is. Standing all high and mighty at the plaza, he assumed Mingi’s personality was just as severe as his looks. But… He’s nothing like that at all. He speaks in a soft, almost cooing tone, and there’s an almost childlike hesitance to him. It makes him about a hundred times more attractive to Yunho, which is a huge problem because first off: his majesty’s gonna get married in a couple of days. And, secondly: Yunho doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell regardless of the betrothal.

 

Yunho feels relieved he’s not gonna get his ass whooped, and he chuckles, “I think you’ve made a mistake.”

 

Mingi’s eyebrows raise and his face lifts a bit at being directly acknowledged, “How do you mean?”

 

“I’m not a dog,” Yunho starts to explain. Prince Mingi’s excited expression deflates, and Yunho feels his heart come crashing to the ground, nearly shattering into a thousand pieces. No, he tells himself, you can’t do that! Not to the Prince. If Prince Song Mingi says Yunho is a puppy then fuck pride, he’s a goddamn puppy.

 

“Exactly.” Yunho adds with haste. “I’m not a dog exactly.”

 

“But your tail,” Mingi points to Yunho’s curled blond tail. It looks almost exactly like the golden retriever’s on the screen.  Part of the canis wants to _seriously_ question Venusian logic. Really? _Tail means dog?_ However, he’s too damn smitten with the prince to really care. The guy _is_ royalty, and as Yunho had decided before, Prince Mingi can call him whatever the hell he wants. Dog, puppy, golden retriever - hell, his majesty can call him a cat for all he cares.

 

“I’m what you call a humecanis,” Yunho explains. “We’re, um, we’re humanoid hybrids. So- I’m not a real puppy, but-” He scoots closer to Mingi and dips his head deferentially, “-I’m similar to one. You can pet me.” He makes a bold move to grab his majesty’s wrist and places the other hand on top of his brown, wavy hair.

 

Shockingly, Mingi accepts the invitation without a word. He starts shyly, just patting gently. Yunho wonders if Prince Mingi had ever pet _anything_ before. It genuinely seems like he hasn’t, and that’s kind of sad. Luckily, the prince picks up quick, and he emboldens himself to take longer, more deliberate strokes. His fingers tangle in Yunho’s chocolate brown locks, and he starts gently raking his nails across the other’s scalp.

 

That’s nice.

 

Really nice.

 

Ticklish warmth tingles inside Yunho’s gut, and he luxuriates in the sensation. It’s sort of like a scalp massage. Yunho’s eyelids flutter shut as he surrenders more and more to the feeling. Prince Mingi is careful but firm. He loosens up tenseness that Yunho didn’t even realize was there. A dizzying glow slurries in his stomach and runs up his insides to his chest.

 

Prince Mingi’s hand starts wandering a bit - not much, just closer to the base of Yunho’s skull. He scritches gently before walking his fingertips toward one of Yunho’s ears. When he closes his forefinger and thumb around the canis’s earlobe, Yunho’s toes curl. Goosebumps cover his skin, and he squeezes his hands in his lap tightly to vent some of the borderline overwhelming goodness.

 

Yunho wasn’t quite prepared for the stimulation. It’s weird and alien and oddly gratifying. He’s never let anyone pet him before. Not even Hongjoong.

 

Why would he? It’s dehumanizing. When he grew up, kids used to laugh at him and shout commands like “here, boy” and “sit”. They reached their hands out to touch the canis, to yank his tail or “pet” him tauntingly. What choice did he have but to be defensive? Maybe it the appropriate response wasn’t to bite their fingers every time, but it got the point across: “I’m not a dog. I’m a person, too.”

 

This, though.

 

This is different.

 

Prince Mingi doesn’t regard him with condescension - he does so with intrigue and curiosity. Yes, he’s a little ignorant, but not willfully so. His hands move along the canis’s scalp with delicacy. It’s almost reverent, like he considers doing so a gracious privilege. Yunho melts under the other’s ministrations. If he’d known that getting pet felt this good, he’d have let someone do it a long time ago. The Venusian’s hand lifts, and Yunho almost pouts at the loss of contact. Good things can’t last forever, he supposes.

 

“E-Excuse me,” Prince Mingi says hushedly.

 

“Yes?” Yunho answers.

 

“I, um, I never caught your name.”

  
“Oh. It’s Yunho. Of course, I know who you are.”

 

“Right,” His majesty chuckles sheepishly. “I, um, I have a question.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Mingi’s gazes falls a bit lower, and at first Yunho thinks it’s out of bashfulness or something, “I…” His majesty nibbles his lip as if contemplating something. “I heard that dogs like belly rubs.”

 

Oh.

 

That explains why the crown prince of Neith is eyeing the humecanis’s stomach.

 

Yunho’s cloudy head strains to find an appropriate response to that. The words just kind of hang there for a second - because how does one respond to that, really? He can think of a few things he wants to say but most definitely shouldn’t. “You can touch me anywhere you like” is one of them. That’ll probably get him smacked at best. “Just keep your eyes above the belt” is another nugget that probably shouldn’t be blurted out, either. Flames engulf the canis’s body as he urges blood to rush back to his brain. Fuck’s sake - he chastises himself - he’s just asking to touch your stomach, not something else.

 

“We do,” The words drop from Yunho’s lips, unceremonious and unplanned. He really, _really_ regrets that. Since when? He asks himself. The only time anyone rubbed his belly in his life was his parents when he felt sick as a kid. Now that fond memory is ruined, tainted by dirty thoughts of a Venusian prince’s fingers dipping dangerously low on his abdomen. This is why Yunho can’t have nice things.

 

“Really?” The Prince lights up, and it feels like the humiliation is almost worth it. Almost. “May I…?” He hovers his hand over Yunho’s stomach.

 

Yunho kicks his legs up and lays back until he hits the mattress with a soft “pwomf” sound. If he wasn’t so fond of the Prince, he’d definitely feel soul-crushing shame. Rolling onto his back so his stomach can be pat _completely_ contradicts his lifelong oath to not let _anyone_ treat him as subhuman.

 

But… Prince Mingi is just so handsome and charming! How can he deny the guy? Mingi is about to be the king. So, in a way, Yunho is just doing his civil duty, obliging the man. It has _nothing_ to do with self-indulgence - or he attempts to convince himself. That attempt is essentially stillborn, and he decides that it’s definitely too late to try and recover personal pride. The only judge present is his own self, and his own self is too busy enjoying the company of a prince.

 

The Prince’s touch is reluctant at first. He grazes his fingertips across Yunho’s stomach so lightly, it tickles. Yunho seizes a bit because of it, not expecting the awkward, fluttery lightness. Prince Mingi withdraws momentarily, and Yunho curses his reflexes. He’s got half a mind to beg the other not to stop, but thankfully it doesn’t come to that. Mingi’s hand dips down again, this time making meaningful contact. He rests his palm gently atop Yunho’s abdomen and fans out his long fingers. The light pressure scorches the skin beneath, causing threads of needling heat to spread throughout his entire abdomen.

 

Timid and conservative, Prince Mingi runs his hand up and down Yunho’s stomach. It’s a simple gesture. Stupidly simple. So why does it feel so, so indescribably nice?

 

Yunho feels himself turn to putty beneath his majesty’s hand. He wonders how inappropriate it would be to ask if they can stay like this forever? The life of a palace pet can’t be all that bad, and Hongjoong can always come and visit.

 

“Is your head feeling better?” Prince Mingi asks, tugging Yunho out of his dumb fantasies.

 

“Mhm,” Yunho nods.

 

“So… You’re really not a puppy?”

 

Yunho chuckles, “No. No I’m not.” But for you I can be anything - he almost tacks on. Being that his majesty is classy company, he decides against it.

 

“You said you are a… Human hybrid?”

  
“A hybrid humanoid. Yup.”

 

“So it’s true,” The prince sounds astonished. “I’ve heard of the Earths having dog men and cat women. I always thought it was a myth.”

 

“Sure isn’t,” Yunho replies, his voice airy and slurred not from booze but bliss.

 

“How did that come to be?”

 

“We were bred for cosmetics originally. Engineered because- I dunno. Guess the humes of yore were bored and wanted tails. Then our population started picking up on its own. We grew bigger in numbers.”

 

“I see. So there’s many of you? Are you everywhere? I’ve never seen your kind before.”

 

“Not so much,” Yunho frowns. “We’re kind of… Confined to one planet right now.”

 

“Wh- All of you?”

 

“Mhm,” The canis nods dejectedly. “The, uh, I guess the higher ups where we came from got worried about our stark increase in population. Things got out of hand or something, and, well, not a lot get off of that planet now. It’s difficult, and prospects aren’t… Great.”

 

“Oh…” The Prince’s voice downturns for a second. “But you did.”

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky for that,” He really is.

 

His family had managed arrangements to get smuggled off of their Earth. Yunho was so young, he barely remembers it. He basically spent his entire childhood living under the same roof as Hongjoong. His papa worked with Hongjoong’s dad, and his mama earned their keep by doing house chores and cleaning. The blended family unit had pretty cramped arrangement, and the Jeongs always had to hide in closets when GC came by for routine inspections. Aside from that, he wouldn’t change anything about his upbringing. It’s no Venusian castle, but compared to where lots of other canis’ end up, lucky is an understatement. Of course, that sort of doom and gloom isn’t something Yunho likes to dwell on.

 

“And now I’m here,” Yunho adds, giving his majesty a little smile. “On Venus. It’s pretty nice, this planet.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” The prince replies flatly. “Venus is very beautiful.”

 

Bafflement pinches Yunho’s face, and he props himself up on his elbows to look at the other. Prince Mingi is pretty zoned out, hand taking lackadaisical trips up and down the canis’s belly while he looks at nothing in particular. It’s not something Yunho can smell or hear, but somehow he detects a wistfulness in that well rehearsed line.

 

“What about other places you’ve been?” Yunho inquires with a tilt of his head.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Other places you’ve been. What other places do you like?”

 

“W-well,” The prince bites his plush lower lip in contemplation of the query. “The outer reaches of Neith have beautiful beaches. And- and Amalthea up to the north- is cold, but the evergreens are stunning. They’re toweresque.” He gestures with his other hand.

 

“What about other planets?”

 

The prince’s visage of polite jubilance falters, “I’ve never been off of Venus.”

 

“What? Never been off of Venus? But- but you’re royalty,” Yunho gasps.

 

Prince Mingi shakes his head, “I barely leave Neith. Or the capital city. Any expeditions are made solely for diplomatic purposes. Though- oh I did get to take a trip overseas to Albiorix.”

 

“Oh? That sounds fun.”

 

“It was just for school. No, I can’t leave my planet. I have royal duties to tend to,” The prince shrugs with a frown. “Not that I mind or anything. I- I’m very grateful. I promise, I- I would never-”

 

“It’s okay,” Yunho chuckles. His majesty’s cute when he tries to be considerate. It’s surprising he understand how he sounds - the bougie, privileged one complaining about menial things. Most people who complain about their lives are completely unaware of that stuff. Yunho doesn’t really mind - he gets that all things are relative - but Mingi’s mindfulness just endears him even more.

 

The prince’s hand stops. It rests limply on Yunho’s stomach, the weight hot and heavy. His majesty’s gaze finds the canis and, in a soft voice, he asks:

 

“What’s it like out there in the stars?”

 

“Hm,” Yunho thinks on that one. He’s so used to space travel, it doesn’t really phase him. Venus is easily the nicest place he’s been. Normally, he and Joong stopped on backwater planets - either glorified dumps or small colonies. The stars look almost entirely the same no matter what sector or galaxy you’re in. They always look far away, and aside from some minor differences in color, they’re hardly even distinguishable.

 

“You’d be surprised how small everything looks from up there.” He says. It’s honest without being frank to the point of further deflating his majesty’s already flattened mood.

 

“Even this place?”

 

Yunho nods, “Even Venus. It’s funny, when you first approach a planet, it’s smaller than a dust bunny in the distance.” He holds his index finger and thumb together to illustrate the point.

 

Prince Mingi chuckles, and his lips upturn a bit, “That sounds cool.”

 

Cool. It sounds _cool_ he said. Something about the casual language amuses the canis way too much, but he doesn’t comment on it. Guess even Venusian princes know regular phrases.

 

“It’s kind of cool,” Yunho responds with a shrug.

 

“Wow… Wait- So, you’re here for the wedding, right? Performing or something?”

 

“Uh- Yeah.”

 

“Is that what you normally do? Travel and perform?”

 

“Um- Yes?” Yunho squeaks out.

 

Apparently, the pup’s uncertain tone doesn’t ring any alarm bells in the prince’s head because he just coos, “You must travel all over the universe.”

 

“I’ve definitely found myself in some interesting places. Especially recently.”

 

“Do you work for a company or-?”

 

Yunho shakes his head, “We’re, uh, independent. _Freelancers_.” He recalls the word.

 

“Freelance work. So you even get to choose who you work for and when,” Prince Mingi’s jaw drops. “So much freedom… That’s incredible.”

 

“It, um, it comes with its challenges.”

 

“Still, I- please don’t take this the wrong way, but- I envy you,” His majesty’s voice lowers to a whisper, like he’s telling Yunho a dirty secret. “To be honest, if I was given that much free reign over myself, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

 

“Trust me, you’d find something.”

 

The prince shakes his head, “I’d probably hide in a corner scared. I would be lost.”

 

“They have maps for that,” Yunho quips.

 

Prince Mingi laughs at that. Not just out of courtesy, either. His entire face lights up with jubilation. He wrinkles his nose, and his eyes squint. The sound is high and mirthy, jostling his shoulders. It’s so unlike what Yunho had expected a royal laugh to be. Instead of a prim titter, the prince delivers a laugh with his whole chest. All because of a lame joke.

 

When he comes down from his fit, the prince grins at the other, “Cute _and_ funny.”

 

Heat blazes from Yunho’s chest up to his cheeks, flushing them in the process. Sure, the prince probably means “cute” the way a person calls a golden retriever cute, but, shit, he’s more than happy to take it. Yunho’s not sure what deities or arcane forces are at play but, in that moment, he feels _super_ grateful to them. When times get tough in the future, he’ll definitely look back on this memory to get him through it. Nevermind that his majesty said literally two nice words. Coming from a prince, that’s worth two-thousand normal people nice word.

 

Yunho considers responding with something dumb and shameless (“how did you guess both of my middle names?”), but he refrains. The prince has been kind enough, and he doesn’t want to push his luck. His majesty probably feels more guilty than anything about scaring the canis into knocking himself out. That’s all. The flush on his glowing, alabaster cheeks is a hundred percent a trick of the light.

 

“You’re very kind,” Yunho says instead, turning the compliments onto the prince.

 

“You’re the kind one,” Prince Mingi leans in a bit closer (causing Yunho to internally panic). “Letting me pet you even though you’re not a canine. Though I am curious: you describe yourself as a hybrid. Do you share other traits with members of the canis genus?”

 

“Well, actually,” Yunho sits upright. Usually he rolls his eyes and groans when people ask stuff like “is the tail it?” - but not Prince Mingi. Once again, his question seems to be one of pure curiosity. There’s no disdain in his tone nor is he turning his nose up at the humecanis. He genuinely wants to know.

 

Yunho points to his ear first, “We’ve got keen hearing and a sharp sense of smell.” He beams proudly. There _are_ perks to his genetics, after all. “Also-” He opens his mouth wide and uses a finger to tug his lip up a bit. “-ouw canines awe longew.” He closes his mouth and flashes a purposefully toothy grin.

 

“Holy- I mean- Wow, that’s so neat,” The prince gasps. “Can- May I have a closer look? If- If it doesn’t bother you. I don’t want to violate your space, I just- that’s really different.”

 

Anything for you, Yunho thinks.

 

“Um, sure. Go ahead, your majesty,” He leans forward warmth licking at his insides. Prince Mingi is already close, and now he’s leaning closer to catch a gander at what? Teeth. That’s what. Yunho keeps reminding himself of that over and over again:

 

He’s just checking out teeth. He’s just checking out _teeth_.

 

He reminds himself as Mingi ghosts a finger over his lips, and he reminds himself _again_ when the prince presses delicately on his chin, provoking him to part his lips. Prince Mingi studies the inside of Yunho’s mouth like he’s an archeologist who’d unearthed a skull. It’s honest and inquisitive, and the Prince’s long digits handle Yunho almost clinically, with precise care. Yunho is pretty sure nobody’s ever given him that sort of treatment.

 

He realizes that there’s a name for it.

 

It’s called respect.

 

He’s used to rough, playful shoves from Hongjoong or prodding pokes from Wooyoung. As a kid, he’d only gotten to see a doctor a few times. The clinics were always dark after hours and his doctors rushed, afraid of getting caught by the patrolmen. They didn’t really employ care or gentleness in their examinations. He’d experienced his fair share of unsolicited gropes and a few very solicited ones, too. Yet, never had he quite gotten something like this. Authentic curiosity with no agenda other than understanding the other a little bit better.

 

Yunho’s thoughts come to a screeching halt when the prince cups his face in both hands. He’s half afraid of burning the other with the sweltering heat pooling in his cheeks.

 

“Your skin,” The prince mutters. “Is it typical for it to be so… Elastic?” He gives the canis’s cheeks a squeeze and stretches them gently.

 

“H-Hey,” Yunho laughs.

 

“Whoa. So chubby,” The prince cries softly, a hint of fondness poking out from his tone. His ministrations grow less and less gentle as he tugs Yunho’s cheeks this way and that.

 

“You don’ hawe to stretch it that much,” Yunho gripes.

 

“Nobody on Venus has chubby cheeks- except for infants,” His majesty pouts. Genuinely, wholeheartedly pouts. His thick lower lip juts out, and his brows sink ever so slightly down. “We always lose our baby fat, though.”

 

He’s got a point, Yunho thinks distractedly. Even the heavier set Venusians all seem to be graced with cut jawlines and sharp cheekbones.

 

“You- you do, huh?” Yunho isn’t even sure why he’s trying to make conversation.

 

“Mhm. Not like you. Your face is almost doughy.”

 

“Doughy?” Yunho would be glaring right now if it wasn’t for the Venusian stretching his face out.

 

“It’s cute,” Prince Mingi’s palms sink into Yunho’s cheeks until the canis’s face is smushed into an exaggerated pout. Yunho feels half-embarrassed, half bashful.

 

“I feel silly,” Yunho says diplomatically. Once again, this sort of thing would get anyone else punched, but his majesty is a special case.

 

“But your tail’s wagging,” The prince smirks.

 

“I-” Shit, it is. Yunho can’t help that. One would think a tail would be easier control, but it surprises a lot of people how unconscious their movement really is. It’s unconscious and inconvenient and, in this case, treacherous.

 

“I read that a puppy wags its tail when it’s happy,” The young monarch lets up a bit, giving Yunho’s cheeks a gentle pat in consolation. “So you must be enjoying this.”

 

“I- Are you teasing me?”

  
“That’s not a no,” The prince grins.

 

“It’s not something I really consciously control.”

 

“I see…” His majesty trails off, his smirk falling and his eyes wandering again. They go back to the lower half of Yunho’s face - his mouth. Those teeth must really fascinate the guy, because he takes the humecanis’s chin between his thumb and index again. Yunho complies wordlessly when Prince Mingi tilts his head up just a smidgeon. His majesty asks about them again. This time, his voice is so low, it comes out almost a whisper - like what he’s saying is some big secret.

 

“Your teeth,” He murmurs. “They really are quite sharp.”

 

“Uh- Yeah,” There’s a strange tensity in the air that makes Yunho sweat. For the briefest of instances, he distrusts the person sitting before him. Why is he so damn fascinated? What if his intentions aren’t as pure as he’d thought?

 

Should the canis be afraid?

 

“Do they ever hurt you- like, accidentally biting your tongue on accident or something?”

 

It’s a strange, unexpected question. Not that Yunho knew what to expect. Once again, it’s completely transparent and to the point. It displays a level of deep scrutiny that Yunho didn’t even really harbor for his own body. He supposes that maybe it’s easier for someone who knows nothing about him to think of those sort of questions. They don’t take him for granted like he, himself does.

 

“Um- Well, sometimes, yeah. But doesn’t it hurt even with a normal, human set of teeth?” Yunho pushes out a chuckle in an attempt to dissipate some of the thickness hanging in the air. How did that get there? And when? It’s like a thick fog had rolled in and he’d just now noticed.

 

Prince Mingi considers Yunho’s words. He takes his consideration a step further, grazing his own tongue along the top row of his beautiful, white teeth. His tongue flits out from between his lips for less than a second, but that tiny, tantalizing sight is enough to set off an alarm bell in Yunho’s head.

 

“I guess you’re right,” The prince replies sheepishly. “But you’re used to it. You probably have to be more careful with others.”

 

With others?

 

_With others?_

 

Yunho chews on the words for a minute. At first, they confused him. With others? What does he assume - that Yunho goes around biting people? That he likes to use people as chew toys? That he needs a chew toy? It takes the canis a shamefully long couple of minutes to answer the question: what would I be doing with my teeth near any “other”? Why on earth would I-

 

The light flickers on eventually.

 

Did someone put a flamethrower to Yunho’s face? Because that’s how he feels. Prince Mingi didn’t mean to be careful with others. He meant being careful when he, Yunho, is with others. “With” with. Like skin on skin, lips overlapping with. Like teeth grazing skin and daring to sink in and leave marks with. That kind of with.

 

The prince said that.

 

Yunho feels dizzy. He’s gonna pass out from the thoughts whirling around in his head.

 

Prince Mingi totally meant, like, _with_ with. Why would he even say that? Did he mean to imply that Yunho has to take care when he’s intimate with people? Why is he asking about Yunho being intimate with people? Does he want to be “people”? No- No, of course he doesn’t. But he definitely mentioned it.

 

Maybe the prince doesn’t have a lot of close friends he can have “boy talk” with. Maybe he’s actually really nosy, and that’s why he’s asked so many questions. What if he’s secretly a pervert? Was he picturing Yunho biting someone? Does he think that’s how he gets off? Why is he thinking about how some random nobody humecanis gets off at all? Unless he’s interested… But he’s _not_ . Because Yunho is a humecanis from nowhere and his majesty Prince Mingi is Venusian royalty. Then again, there _is_ all the petting to consider.

 

Yunho realizes he’s probably been sitting there dumbfounded for an awkwardly lengthy stretch of time and tries to rectify that. Except, upon opening his mouth, he has nothing prepared to say.

 

Inviting his majesty to find out just how sharp they are himself is brazen and inappropriate. That’ll probably get him punched, smacked, or killed (he doesn’t know the Venusian’s punishment preferences). There are a couple of stories that bubble up in Yunho’s mind - some unfortunate instances in which he hadn’t exercised the aforementioned care. However, he has negative interest in reliving those moments. Also it feels profoundly wrong to talk to _the_ Prince of Neith about past escapades gone wrong.

 

“I manage,” Yunho chokes out. It’s neutral and vague. “My tail is more dangerous than my teeth, anyways. Sometimes I forget it’s there, then I knock things over.” The misdirection ought to work, he hopes.

 

Prince Mingi’s hands drop from Yunho’s face to cover his own as he lets out loud laughter. Misdirection: successful! Yunho lets out a long exhale - he didn’t know he’d been holding his breath. His body still tingles with combined nerves and infatuation, but he feels a bit less compromised with the other’s hands off of him.

 

“Oh no,” The prince giggles.

 

“Oh yes,” Yunho nods. “I’m serious. I’m a menace- Like even when I was growing up, nothing could be put on shelves at- at tail-height.” He gestures with his hand to illustrate it.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. Wasn’t a big problem until I started growing, but, um, yeah. A few broken knick-knacks and lots of knocked over books.”

 

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

 

“You know- I don’t really even notice. Usually if my tail’s wagging that much it’s because I’m really happy, so,” Yunho shrugs. “I don’t care.”

 

“That’s so cute…” Prince Mingi swoons happily, and his eyes meander from Yunho’s face to behind him.

 

Uh-oh. Yunho knows that look. He knows that look very well. He’s seen that glint in a person’s eyes before, the little smile, the wistful air… He’s thinking “I wanna touch it”. What’s worse than that is the fact that Yunho’s first thought is: “I wanna let him touch it”.

 

On one hand: Wooyoung would _die_ knowing Yunho let someone else touch his tail before him. On the other hand: that would be hilarious - also, Prince Mingi is royalty. It dawns on Yunho that he’s given his majesty a lot of slack because of his royal status. He never really understood why rich folk always get so much special treatment. Except, now, he kind of does. After all, what’s he gonna do? Say _no_ ? To _the Prince of Neith_? (Never mind that Yunho didn’t know that Neith existed a day ago.)

 

“You wanna touch it, don’t you?” Yunho sighs in defeat. He only has himself to blame, really.

 

“Well…” Prince Mingi just stares at it. He looks not unlike a child eyeing a dessert they shouldn’t have before dinner. He just wants it _so_ bad, and Yunho is so, _so_ weak in the most pathetic way for the prince.

 

“It’s really not even that big of a thing, I promise,” Yunho tries to downplay it, crossing his arms. “To be honest, you’ll probably be disappointed.”

 

“I-Is that a yes?”

 

Yunho just sighs. He rolls onto his stomach and sticks his ass up ever so daintily.

 

The canis props an arm up on his elbow and rests his face on his hand,“Like I said it’s- it’s nothing spe…” His words disintegrate when the other closes his hand around his tail. The pressure is gentle - as it’s been the entire time. Prince Mingi languorously runs his loosely closed fist along the length of Yunho’s tail, the softest “wow” passing his lips as he does so. It’s not the tail being grabbed that affects Yunho so much as the person doing it and the way he’s doing it.

 

“This- this feels different. The hair I mean,” Prince Mingi says, awe apparent in his voice. “It’s really fur. Like- Fur.” He threads his fingers in the blond tendrils and does a second pass down the tail.

 

“Uh- uh-huh,” Yunho swallows hard. Heat balloons dangerously in his stomach. The prince withdraws his hand, and the canis thinks he’s in the clear. However, he’s quickly informed otherwise.

 

Oh, no.

 

He’s in more danger than ever.

 

His majesty’s fingertips land between Yunho’s shoulder blades. He presses his palm flat and drags it down the canis’s spine at a lackadaisical, agonizing pace. His touch burns, leaving a trail of seared skin begging for gratification. Yunho tenses when the Prince reaches the small of his back. In that moment, he’s prepared to let the noble do anything and put that hand anywhere.

 

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the prince is a perfect gentleman, treading no formerly unconsented ground. He closes his hand around Yunho’s tail again, exerting a soft pressure as he drags it down the length.

 

“You’re tail’s wagging again,” Prince Mingi comments. Yunho wonders if he’s had a stroke, because he swears the prince sounded husky. His voice is naturally low, he convinces himself - of course he sounds husky.

 

“Sorry, I’m not like a real dog,” Yunho breathes. He wanted to sound not wrecked. That didn’t go to plan.

 

“I think you’re more interesting, though.”

 

“I’m a guy with a tail,” Yunho replies. “You probably see more interesting stuff on your plate for breakfast. I bet being a prince is way more exciting than-” He wags his tail and points to it.

 

Prince Mingi’s face lights up with another laugh, and he falls onto his side, the mattress sinking beneath his weight, “You’d be surprised.”

 

“By what? The kinda stuff on your royal agenda?”

 

The prince shakes his head before resting it in his palm, “How boring it is.”

 

“Hm,” Yunho looks up contemplatively. “I bet it’s not.”

 

“Don’t take that wager,” His majesty replies. “Trust me it’s so boring. I’m not the King yet, so I have it easy. For me it’s mostly fluff stuff. Shaking hands. Diplomacy. Studying. Meetings. Calls with our friendly allied countries. Meetings.”

 

“Sounds official!” Yunho chirps. That kind of lifestyle has always seemed so, so far away in his eyes. He knows of the general construct of the nine to five business person. There were a few like that where he lived, and a couple on the television when they could sneak a peek. His mental image is of briefcases and, yes, the abstract concept of “the meeting”.

 

“Very official,” The prince confirms. “But… You’re a travelling performer. You get to see the entire galaxy- the universe. I bet you’ve seen all kinds of things, met all sorts of people. That’s so cool…”

 

“Well, once you’re King, can’t you take nice vacations and stuff?”

 

“Wh-” His majesty’s face illuminates with yet another mirthful laugh, “No, god- I mean. I wish. I think my papa has left Neith for recreation like three times since I was born. Nope. It’s a life of service for me when I tie the knot.” The prince’s manner depresses a little, and the edges of his mouth twitch downward.

 

A life of service?

 

Yunho had never heard the words “service” associated with the wealthy in his life. The two seemed so far apart to him. Didn’t the rich have people service them? He considers that perhaps his impression of royalty was wrong all along. The few fairytale books he got his hands on always painted pretty pictures of ballrooms and grandiose appearances - like the ones he’d experienced throughout the day. They never discuss things like meetings or economics or diplomacy. Yunho only really understands what one of those words means.

 

Everything comes at a cost, he realizes.

 

The prince speaks again, desirously, “That’s why I envy you. Sorry- It’s probably insensitive of me to say so.”

 

“No, no. I get it. Be as insensitive as you want,” Yunho replies honestly. “I-” He almost says “would feel trapped” but stops himself. That seems a bit too candid for a prince he’s just met. “I think it’s very understandable, how you feel. Doesn’t seem like an easy life-” Save for the whole entire kingdom doing your bidding. “-running a whole country. B-but I bet you’ll do a great job. You could’ve left me sprawled out in the halls back there, but you didn’t. You took me to your room-” In hindsight, that sounds a lot worse when said out loud, Yunho thinks. “-and made sure I was okay. Let me rest on your awesome, giant bed.”

 

At the very least, it cheers Mingi up a little. Seeing just a hint of that beautiful smile is vindication enough.

 

“What kind of person would leave someone knocked out, cold on the ground?”

 

Yunho recalls many a time leaving back alley bars in the less prestigious reaches of the universe. There’s almost always one or two people passed out in front of those places, head lolled and body splayed out like a profane decoration indicating what can be in store for those passing through.

 

“You would be surprised,” Yunho answers. “You could’ve left me to someone else, though.”

 

“But I was responsible.”

 

“Exactly!” Yunho grins. “You’re responsible. So… You’ll be great at whatever you do.”

 

“That’s… Very kind of you to say,” The prince almost appears a little bashful, but there’s no way Yunho caused his cheeks to flush. The canis decides it’s probably a trick of the light.

 

“Yeah. Your folks must be so proud of you, following in your father’s footsteps and all.”

 

The prince’s face falls. Uh-oh. A nerve has been hit.

 

“It’s- it’s a lot to live up to,” He lets out a shaky, forced chuckle. Yunho’s tail sags slightly upon seeing his tactless mistake. “My father’s done an incredible job. He, uh- he fusses over me sometimes.” It’s easy to tell that the prince is choosing his words deliberately. It’s also easy to tell that there’s a sore nerve somewhere between his father and him.

 

“W-well who’s to say you have to rule like him?” Yunho posits. “You should just rule like yourself. I mean- If I was one of your subjects I’d be thrilled with having such a kind, caring leader.”

 

Prince Mingi’s fingers idly draw shapes in the sheets below, and he keeps taking his lower lip between his teeth. In spite of his best efforts, the young noble looks transparently unhappy. Yunho senses that he’s wrestling with something, willing away storm clouds looming over his psyche.

 

“But you don’t wanna be a leader, do you?” Yunho’s words come out a muted whisper. He didn’t mean to say them, they just happened, thought impulsively passed through lips into spoken word. The canis clamps his mouth shut, ready to be derided for his presumptuousness. He’s probably been treading thin voice already what with how familiar he’s been treating the prince. This could be it. The last straw. The thing that gets his ass thrown out of the castle- maybe even banished from the city.

 

Mingi’s response is so, so quiet and hesitant, Yunho’s fairly certain if he had human ears he wouldn’t have heard it:

 

“I don’t have a choice,” The prince says.

 

About a million questions run through Yunho’s head at the time. Who says you don’t? Why not? Can’t you ask nicely to pass the crown to your brother? Your dad looks healthy, why can’t he remain king?

 

Except, he’s pretty sure this is the kind of stuff Prince Mingi’s already asked himself a hundred times. Instead, Yunho puts forth something else, something that maybe his majesty doesn’t get to talk about as often. Something that Yunho’s curious about himself.

 

“If you did have a choice, what would you do?” Yunho asks.

 

Prince Mingi looks taken aback by the query, unprepared even. His lips part, but nothing comes out right away. The tiniest ghost of a grin stretches on his face when he finally answers.

 

“I would… Find a planet.”

 

“Find a planet?”

 

“Yes, a planet. One with… Lots and lots of puppies.”

 

Yunho snorts.

 

“I’d pet them all,” Prince Mingi says, feigning deadpan seriousness. “Every single dog in the universe-”

 

“Every single dog?”

 

“It’d be my mission to meet all of them.”

 

“That’s a lofty goal.”

 

“Oh- That’s not all,” The prince shakes his head. “When I’m done with the dogs, you know what I’m gonna do next?”

 

“Wh- When you’re done? There’s more?”

 

“There’s more because, when I’m done with the dogs, then I move onto the cats.”

 

“The cats.”

 

“All of them. I’m gonna pet all of the cats.”

 

“That’s a lot of animals.”

 

“They always tell you to dream big- at least, that’s an expression I’ve heard. Nobody’s actually said it to me.”

 

“Listen, if someone like me can end up in the company of a Venusian prince, anything can happen. You never know.”

 

“Oh gosh- I promise my company is really not that exciting. Especially for a person like you. Now, I know you’ve met people more interesting then me on your travels.”

 

“Interesting isn’t always good.”

 

“No?”

 

“No. Last ‘interesting’ bunch of folks I ran into drowned me like twenty times.”

 

“They- Whoa- What?”

 

Uh-oh. Loose lips. Yunho freezes for a second, pressing his lips shut.

 

“Wh- Come on, you can’t just start something with that and leave it there,” The prince insists.

 

“It’s not a very nice story. I- Well…” Yunho hesitates. Part of him wants to spill everything right there - tell him how the hell a fuckup like him ended up in a Venusian boudoir. But there’s two major problems with that. First of all: there’s the high chance that it would eternally ruin whatever favor or high(ish) regard his majesty has for the humecanis. Second: telling the truth will probably get the entire crew thrown off of the planet. Maybe killed.

 

“Yunho,” Prince Mingi’s lower lip juts out again, “Please tell me how you almost died. Please.”

 

“Should- Shouldn’t we get back to the party.”

 

“No,” His majesty makes a face of disgust. “All the people down there just wanna kiss my ass ‘cause I’m gonna be king in a few days.”

 

Yunho gasps, “Did you just swear?”

 

“Wh- I-” Prince Mingi’s hand clamps over his mouth. Suddenly, it’s the royal whose proper reputation has a chip in it. Except, that little blemish does nothing to bruise Yunho’s opinion of him. On the contrary, it makes the canis like him a little more. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

 

“Your secret’s safe with me. If…” Yunho bites down on his lip hesitantly.

 

“If?”

 

“If you promise to keep a secret of mine.”

 

“I swear it, on my honor- and, trust me, I’m royalty. I have lots of honor,” The prince holds a hand up dramatically.

 

Yunho chuckles, “Okay you just- you can’t tell anyone - I mean anyone - the stories I’m about to tell you. Oh- One more thing.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Just, uh, curious. What are your opinions on the Galactic Coalition. If you, uh, have any?”

 

Mingi’s face scrunches confusedly, “I, uh. Not really. They’re annoying, kind of. Try to cling onto our country’s success and prosperity. But they handle a lot of paperwork we don’t feel like dealing with so,” He shrugs, “Eh. Our planet’s intercontinental alliance keeps ‘em around, but if I could choose I’d just tell them to stay the hell away. Um- That- that doesn’t offend you, does it? Do you work with them?”

 

“Oh, _good_. That means I can really tell the story…” Yunho starts.

 

It’s in his latent nature to talk, to share, to confide with people. Always has been. He knows it’s a huge risk, trusting Prince Mingi with his personal stories, trusting that he won’t phone the Coalition and cash in on the whatever bounty they’d slapped on his head. It’s a risk, but for some maybe ill-founded reason, Yunho’s willing to take it.


	3. Chapter 3

Venusians know how to party.

 

Since strolling in after six, the music has only gotten louder and the Venusians more festive. If they had the propensity to be rowdy, they probably would be right about now, but these people can hold their liquor shockingly well. Must be their tall frames, Hongjoong thinks to himself.

 

He’d taken a spot on the wall awhile ago, warming San’s place when the siren eventually skipped off onto the dance floor. Good for him, the captain had thought. He can’t blame the guy for being a bit on edge. New living situation, new friends, and now a new place with more new people. It’s a _lot_ of new. He seems okay now, Joong muses, idly watching him and Wooyoung dance in the distance with a bunch of Venusians.

 

Hongjoong is surprised that the Venusians would even associate with lowdown, undignified types like themselves, but he’s starting to think maybe he’s got the whole Venusian culture framed wrong. It’s not that they’re not hoity toity - they are. But they seem somehow nicer. Of course, it could just be the party or the alcohol or the wedding festivities spurning their welcoming attitude. After all, this is a planet that usually requires some flavor of bureaucratic papers to enter.

 

The captain glances down at his own glass of Venusian wine. It’s good, sinfully good. On a typical evening, he’d probably have downed six glasses already. The stuff almost tastes like juice - it’s that dangerous. However, ever since coming in and losing people, he’s been anxious. Hongjoong has found through real life experience that nerves don’t make for the best mixer for alcohol, and he prefers to forgo frantic, drunken attacks of anxiety that occasionally seize a person when they’re jittery and have had too much. Consequently, he’s basically stone cold sober which makes the entire affair just a little bit duller than it should be.

 

Jongho is probably off in some corner, breaking apples and flirting. Strangely enough, even though he’s the youngest, Hongjoong trusts him the most. He just doesn’t seem the type to do something incredibly stupid and detrimental to their cause. Wooyoung, on the other hand, would definitely do something stupid, but luckily he’s busy dancing. And then there’s Yunho the (quite literally) missing piece of the ATEEZ puzzle. He’s nowhere to be found and it’s been about three hours, give or take.

 

That’s got Hongjoong worried.

 

He’s scanned the crowd time after time. Occasionally a head of brown curls will rouse his attention, but it turns out to just be some server or Venusian. Venusians are tall, but so is Yunho. Joong thought by this time he would’ve surfaced. He’d even checked the pretty little pop-up commodes they’d erected for the public. He’d gone in multiple times, checking all the stalls and even enduring the humiliation of calling out his name.

 

Nothing.

 

Yunho is a humecanis. There’s a lot of them, but not across the universe. As far as your average person is concerned, he’s a rarity. People on Venus seem to love shit like that, and they seem to love throwing their money around even more. Worst case scenarios have been creeping their way through Hongjoong’s head for the past hour, and his heart continues to sink more and more.

 

Someone could have snatched him away to sell him. What if some Venusian baron knocked him out and snatched him away to be kept as a pet? Or maybe some fancy but entirely unhinged scientist smuggled Yunho away to use him for experiments? Yunho’s a trusting guy, and though his senses are good, there are drugs even he can’t detect. What if someone slipped something into his drink? The possibilities are endless and, in Hongjoong’s head, horrible.

 

The captain decides he can’t live like this anymore, and he charges forward determinedly to grab two of the dancing idiots he claims as his crew. Loud bass pounds, and Hongjoong rubs up against more people than he’d like as he crosses the throng of dancing Venusians. All the while, Hongjoong’s head whips around in search of his friend. It’s a pity, because he’s pretty sure in different circumstances, he’d be enjoying himself a ton.

 

“Hey!” Hongjoong shouts just so he can be heard over the pounding bass.

 

Wooyoung turns to see Hongjoong (now sandwiched between San and some tall Venusian girl), “Captain! Get in here!” He beams, beckoning Hongjoong into the too-close cluster of people.

 

“We need to find Yunho!” Joong hollers, ignoring the invitation. He’s way too sober to have someone’s junk pressing up on him (or to press his junk on some other random).

 

“What?” Wooyoung’s brows knit together.

 

“We need to find Yunho! I’m worried about him!”

 

“Where’s Yunho?!” San loudly enters the conversation.

 

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong huffs. “We need to find him!”

 

“Why do we need to find him?”

 

Joong squeezes the bridge of his nose, “I’m worried about him!”

 

“Why?” Wooyoung asks. “He’s not a child!”

 

“Yeah, but we’re-” Hongjoong glances at the people around them. There’s too many people to talk openly (or, well, yell openly). “I just wanna make sure everyone’s alright! Can you please help me look?”

 

San and Wooyoung exchange looks before shrugging in concession. They whisper whatever sweet, sorrowful goodbyes their drunk minds can come up with to their new friends. After a prolonged farewell, Hongjoong manages to pull the two aside, away from the core of the commotion. The trio find a relatively quiet spot toward the fanciful, arching entrance of the ballroom to talk.

 

“What if he’s getting laid?” Wooyoung posits first. His cheeks and ears are flushed, and the slight slur in his speech says “I’m drunk but I can handle my liquor - but I’m definitely drunk”.

 

“But where would he lay down?” San asks innocently, eyebrows quirking at Wooyoung’s statement.

 

“No- No- Not laying down. He’s getting laid- Y’see, it’s a very human expression about when-”

 

“He’s been gone for, like, three hours? More than three hours now,” Hongjoong cuts Wooyoung off. Not today, Wooyoung. He can wreck San’s cute naivety another time - but not today. Especially when there’s way more important stuff at hand.

 

“Well good for him,” Wooyoung snickers. San still looks completely lost (good, Hongjoong thinks).

 

“Ignore him,” Hongjoong says pointedly to the siren. “Actually- In general, life advice. Just ignore him.”

 

“Wh- Rude,” Wooyoung pouts.

 

Hongjoong concludes that Wooyoung is helpful as a pair of eyes and nothing more. He turns to San, hoping the siren is in a better place mentally.

 

“Okay, you- Any ideas? Are you sure Yunho didn’t- didn’t say anything?”

 

San shrugs, “He ran toward the food. If we’re gonna try to find him, why not retrace his steps and start there?”

 

Finally, a decent, logical idea! They just need to snag Jongho and the captain’s parentesque paranoia will nearly be calmed.

 

“Good idea, San,” Hongjoong praises the other exaggeratedly, eyes on Wooyoung.

 

Wooyoung just chuckles, “He is so smart.” He reaches out to squeeze the siren’s cheek giddily. Okay, so maybe he’s not as lucid as Joong had originally thought. Before he has to endure more akward pseudo third-wheeling, the captain starts walking toward one of the long tables heaped with food.

 

“Come on, let’s start over there,” He commands. The two follow obediently, Wooyoung muttering something to San that Hongjoong can’t hear (and probably wouldn’t want to).

 

Abruptly, something prompts Hongjoong to halt. San narrowly avoids him, but Wooyoung body checks him in a full-on collision.

 

He gripes, “Hey- Wh-”

 

“Uh-oh,” Hongjoong murmurs. Worry stabs him square in the chest at the things he sees dancing around in his peripheral vision. Both left and right, tall, uniformed blurs casually stride toward them. Said blurs carry rifles longer than Hongjoong from head to toe, and they seem to be muttering into something, communicating.

 

“Follow me,” The captain says coolly. Instead of the direct, open route to the nearby table, he leads the other two into the crowd again.

 

“Huh- What is it?” Wooyoung asks.

 

“We’re being watched,” San catches on lightning quick. Good. His senses are keen and, apparently, his tolerance high. Maybe it has something to do with that martial arts siren warrior stuff he’d talked about before. Whatever it is, Joong is thankful to have him as an ally.

 

“Huh?” The younger human grunts dumbly.

 

“They’re at our two and nine,” Hongjoong ignores Wooyoung. He’s a poor, lost soul. “Just keep it cool. We could be jumpy for nothing.”

 

The trio walk back into the crowd, navigating the outer edges carefully. They weave through jubilantly chattering Venusians who are none the wiser that they’ve been drinking and dancing among fugitives. Hongjoong has a feeling that the discovery wouldn’t go over well, and he’s not eager to confirm his suspicion.

 

“His majesty’s still not here?” “Where’s he gone off to-?” “I miss Prince Mingi.” “-gauche! He wouldn’t have some tawdry affair just days before-” “-e’s probably hiding.” “We know he doesn’t want to be king…” “Is he alright?” “I bet he’s fallen asleep-”

 

Hongjoong gnaws on his lower lip, borderline abusing it to vent his anxiety. The prince is gone. Yunho is gone. It doesn’t matter who did what, when or where - Hongjoong has a really, _really_ awful feeling about this. If anyone finds out that something happened to the prince, who’s going to get blamed? The low-status foreigner with zero alibi, that’s who.

 

“They still looking at us or was I being too paranoid?” Hongjoong asks San.

 

The siren leans in, his voice downtrodden, “We’ve got another one on our six now.”

 

Fuck.

 

Okay, Joong urges himself, keep it cool.

 

“This way,” He leads them to the left - toward their ten. His hope that the guard isn’t watching them slowly go up in flames. In his peripherals, Hongjoong catches the sight of the guard politely asking Venusian attendees to please excuse them as the shuffle through.

 

Fuck.

 

“Wait, we’re being followed by the guard?” Wooyoung, ever the fast one, asks.

 

“No,” Hongjoong replies with gritted teeth. “This is just a misunderstanding. They must be looking for his majesty.” He fakes - just in case someone’s overhearing.

 

“Captain,” San says hushedly (well, as hushedly as he can with music blaring), “Another one. At our three.”

 

“So what you’re telling me is that we’re surrounded?”

 

“That… May be so, yes.”

 

“Okay, that’s- that’s fine. It’s not, but, I mean-” Hongjoong’s temples ache from dehydration, loud music, and how hard he’s thinking right now. “I- We need to just play it cool. Can’t let on that anything’s wrong or off. We are just normal people. Normal performers just- normally partying. On Venus.”

 

“Whoa, is that one of the royal guards?” Wooyoung blubbers. Hongjoong follows the drunk’s vague gesturing to see that one of the guards is making a bee line toward them. He’s maybe a dozen paces away if that.

 

“Come on this way,” Hongjoong grabs Wooyoung by the wrist and drags him forward (he doesn’t trust him to keep up). He leads them away from the guard closing in on them but doesn’t make it far. Wooyoung bumps into his side when he stops suddenly.

 

“U-Uh-” The captain stutters. He almost collided with the person in front of them. A Neith royal guard bars their path imposingly, hands poisedly holding their signature huge rifle. Next to him stands an indignant looking woman - clearly not Venusian. Also clearly pissed.

 

“Ex-Excuse me-” Hongjoong tries.

 

“ITZY, huh?” The guard growls.

 

The captain’s wide eyes dart between the guard and the indignant young woman next to him. She’s dressed flamboyantly. He didn’t think much of it before, but it occurs to him that her dress could be likened to a costume. A stage costume. For a performance. Done by performers. Entertainers, as the atmospheric patrol had put it.

 

“Captain, who’s she?” Wooyoung asks dumbly, pointing to the pissed off performer.

 

“You three are going to need to come with us- along with the rest of your crew,” The guard ignores Wooyoung, pointedly making the demand to Hongjoong.

 

Another day.

 

Another planet.

 

Another brush-in with the authorities and another questioning.

 

Why is this becoming routine for them?

 

“I think this is just a big misunderstanding,” Hongjoong holds his hands up defensively. “There was a misspelling.”

 

“Bullshit!” The woman next to the guard says. She jabs a finger in the captain’s direction, indignation painted plainly on her face, “You made life a living hell. They thought we were imposters when we were coming in!”

 

“Wait- Who are you?” Wooyoung blurts out. If the royal guard wasn’t so fixed on doing it, Joong would kill Wooyoung himself.

 

“ _I’m_ a part of ITZY,” The girl seethes. “Imagine how _interesting_ it was when we heard a bunch of dudes used our name - even calling themselves _ATEEZ_ \- to get in.” She grimaces.

 

Realization dawns on Wooyoung in stunted phases,“Wh- Oh… Oh. _Oh_.”

 

“Yeah,” She responds. “Oh.”

 

“Captain,” The drunk leans over so close that Hongjoong can feel his hot breath on his ear. Weirdo. “It appears we’ve been had.”

 

“ _Thank you_ , Wooyoung,” Hongjoong responds sarcastically.

 

“You’re welcome,” Apparently, the sarcasm had gone completely over Woo’s head.

 

“Please,” The royal guard says firmly, “Come with us quietly so as to not be impolite to the other guests.”

 

Hongjoong looks San in the eye. The two share something - a nonverbal exchange, an understanding. They both come to a consensus that boils down to one, simple thing: fuck that. Like hell is he going to get taken in and questioned again. If what he’s heard about Venus is right, getting taken in means they’re fucked - _royally_ fucked, even. Neither of them are interested in what lies down that road. Joong and San nod, then Hongjoong glances at Wooyoung. He’s… Wooyoung. Though his wit is dulled, Joong figures he ought to be lucid enough to understand the three letter word “run”.

 

Coming to that executive decision, Hongjoong turns to the guard and replies, “See the thing about us ATEEZ fellas… We’re not very polite.” The guard looks absolutely galled to hear this new information, but Hongjoong doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Nice things about Venusians being so tall is that they happen to be at an ideal gut-kicking height for the petite captain. Hongjoong swiftly kicks in front of him, and his foot lands squarely between the man’s stomach and groin.

 

“Run!” He commands. “Let’s split up and head toward the ship! San- Take Wooyoung!”

 

“What about the others?” San asks, snatching the loopy human’s wrist.

 

“Jongho can take care of himself- we’ll find Yunho ASAP. Let’s just not get killed right now!”

 

“Yes, sir!” San responds compliantly.

  
With that, they fork off into different directions. It doesn’t take long for the other guards to notice, and soon the ATEEZ crew is engaged in a mad dash. The majority of the partiers are still none the wiser, but a few start to take notice.

 

“Wh-” “What’s going on?” “Oh my god- Do you think they’ve taken the prince?!” “Who are you-” “Stop him!” “Wh-” “Watch where you’re going!”

 

Venusians chatter left and right as Hongjoong deftly weaves through them. He knows for a fact Jongho is somewhere in the vicinity. His goal is to reach the kid first. When the four of them are at least safe-ish, then they can hunt down Yunho. The plan is loosey goosey, but it’s gonna have to work. It’s not like he’d been given time to strategize and, so far, his thrown together plans haven’t resulted in imminent death. Joong prays his record stays like that.

 

Guards rush in Hongjoong’s direction, and he freezes. His brain reels thinking of ways to outwit them, outmaneuver. He stays like that, petrified and panicked as they guards come rushing… Straight past him.

 

“Ahh-!” “Get him!” “Step aside!” “We’re gonna need backup.” “What is that thing?” “Oh my word-” “Ah-!”

 

An eruption of screams and commotion ahead of Hongjoong catches his attention. His head snaps in the direction that his not-pursuers are heading. The crowd in that direction thins rapidly, and he sees exactly the source.

 

“Thank _god_ for Choi Jongho,” Joong mutters to himself. He sprints toward the kid who successfully shoves off two royal guards. Hongjoong’s relieved that there’s a crowd. He feels bad that they’re getting caught up in all of this, but it means the guard isn’t opening fire.

 

“Thwaack!” Jongho’s fist collides with a soldier’s face, sending him crumbling to his feet.

 

“Captain-!” Jongho gasps when he finally catches sight of Hongjoong. “What’s going on?”

 

“We need to get back to the ship. Now!” Hongjoong answers.

 

Jongho has the audacity to pout, “But I was having fun-” That thought’s cut off by a guard lunging toward him. The youngest elbows the guard roughly in the gut, making a sickly noise leave their throat before they collapse.

 

“And I am so sorry,” Hongjoong huffs exasperatedly. “But we have to go.”

 

“Where’s Yunho?”

 

“We’ll- We can figure that out,” Hongjoong winces. In truth, he hasn’t quite gotten to that part of the plan. A sinking sensation forms a pit in his stomach, the possibility that Yunho isn’t okay is way too real to him.

 

“Think we can send him a message or something?”

 

“What? Wait- That’s a good idea,” Hongjoong scrambles over to Jongho, standing against him back to back.. Less to be helpful and more for his own protection. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help - he just knows that Jongho is really fine without his flimsy strength to assist.

 

“There they are!” “Get them!” “Do we have visuals on the other two imposters?” More guards dash toward them.

 

“Any ideas on how to do that?” Hongjoong asks as he ducks a rifle swinging toward him. No wonder they’re so big, he thinks. They’re used as melee and ranged weapons. While that little nugget of knowledge is ever so enlightening, it doesn’t really help, and Joong shakes the distraction out of his head.

 

“There has to be some big network here!” Jongho says. “The guards are communicating-” He kicks a nearby guard in the stomach. “-If we can somehow get like a global message. Like- A security alert.”

 

Hongjoong ducks to the side, narrowly missing a fist coming for his face, “So one of these guys should have something like that- right?” He grabs the guard’s forearm and holds them in place. His leg extends into a forceful kick, getting them right in the gut. They fall surprisingly easily, and Hongjoong wonders if they’re just not used actually using the training they surely get.

 

“That’s my guess,” Jongho says.

 

People have _definitely_ taken notice at this point, and a ring of gawkers forms around the skirmish. It must be perversely fascinating to Venusians. After all, their society is all about order and manners. A genuine fight breaking out? At a gala held in the prince’s honor of all places? No doubt Venusians will have some proposed alterations to their visitation policies after this. Yet, at the same time, Hongjoong can’t help but get the impression they’re wildly entertained. He notices people leaning over to one another, whispering fervently. Some are straight up panicking too, some are screaming, and some are laughing.

 

Figures.

 

It’s all a big fucking spectacle to them. At the end of the day, they get to go back to their fancy beds in their pretty houses, safe and sound and completely unbothered. This’ll be a funny, scandalous story to them tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be some sensational headline in a Neith tabloid. Will they be blamed for disgracing the royal family or something?

 

Who gives a rat’s ass.

 

Unlike the people of Neith, Hongjoong is fighting for his life. Not just his life either, but those of his crew, too.

 

“Got one!” Jongho hollers.

 

Hongjoong blinks confusedly at him until he sees what Jongho is holding up. It looks like some type of communicator bracelet.

 

“Give it here,” Joong commands. Jongho is happy to toss the thing over to his senior as another two guards barrel toward them.

 

Hongjoong snatches the shiny bracelet out of the air. He scoffs in disbelief at the thing. It’s a gold cup-chain encrusted with what are probably diamonds or some equally shiny, needlessly expensive stone. In the middle is a bulbous, glassy looking node. He taps the orb, and with a flash of light, a panel projects above the thing. The letters on the projection read:

 

“☠︎♏︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎❍︎◆︎■︎♓︎♍︎♋︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎ ■︎♏︎⧫︎⬥︎□︎❒︎🙵 📫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♍︎◆︎❒︎♏︎ ●︎♓︎■︎♏︎”

 

“You’ve gotta be _shitting_ me,” Hongjoong breathes out exasperatedly. “Jongho, we’re gonna need a minute.”

 

“I- What?” Jongho hollers. He lunges forward to shove a guard out of the way. Seriously, where do these people keep coming from?

 

“This might take some, uh, trial and error,” Hongjoong bites his lower lip nervously.

 

Jongho groans and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, “I’ll cover you. D’you think you can run and do- uh, that at the same time?”

 

“Uh- Probably?”

 

“Fine, let’s go,” Jongho takes point and trots toward the massive archway of the entry foyer. He loops an arm protectively around Hongjoong’s shoulders as they skitter off, a wake of shouting guards on their tail.

 

“Thank you, baby angel,” The captain coos jokingly.

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“Out, hopefully,” Hongjoong replies.

 

* * *

 

Deliberately timed footsteps thunder down the intersection of Omikron and Fifteen. The Neith royal guard had quickly gotten preoccupied, so San had managed to drag Wooyoung out of the castle with relative ease. A few poor waiters and a couple of buffet tables were upended in the process, but aside from that things had gone without incident. Unfortunately, their grace period reached its expiration. The guard in the palace alerted their fellow officers on the street - at least, that’s what San assumed.

 

He’d yanked Wooyoung to hide in a narrow alley in the meanwhile. When he’d decided to board ATEEZ, he had anticipated excitement. Not this much excitement, though. His heart patters in his chest busily, and his mind is in a thousand places as he tries to calculate their next move. It’s exciting and engaging and would maybe even be _fun -_ if their lives weren’t in danger.

 

“We clear?” Wooyoung whispers groggily. Once he’d gotten a concrete grasp of reality, he seemed to sober up considerably. Though his mind seems much sharper, his body is still laggard.

 

“Let’s give it a minute,” San responds hushedly. The two press themselves up against one of the buildings, waiting quietly in the shadows. Even halfway to the ship, the faintest thrumming of music can be heard in the alleyway. It feels so, so far away, though, and in spite of everything, the siren feels a bit relieved. He can go back to the ship, back to comfort - or at least the closest facsimile of it that he can cling to at the moment.

 

“What happened in there?” Wooyoung asks all of a sudden.

 

San narrows his eyes at the human, “What do you mean? We got caught. We’re running.”

 

“I… I’m not talking about that,” Wooyoung says quietly.

 

“Wha-?”

 

“I mean earlier, San. You disappeared on me.”

 

The siren frowns, and an unpleasant sensation gnaws at his stomach, “I needed a break.”

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

“What?”

 

“You seemed kinda- Iunno- Upset.”

 

“Is really now the time?” San hisses.

 

“W-well we had a moment and it was kinda on my mind.”

 

“If it was _really_ on your mind you could’ve asked earlier,” Bitterness broils in the siren’s guts.

 

“Well I-”

 

“You were preoccupied, I know. I-” San lets out a huff of air. It’s immensely shameful that his alcohol-fueled moping session garnered attention. He is a _siren_ \- strong, honorable, capable, and _captivating_. His state of being oughtn’t hinge so crucially on a single person’s attention. Wooyoung is kind and funny and friendly - no need to lavish any praise or meaning more profound than that. “I’m just unfamiliar with all of this. It’s a bit new to me, so I needed to collect my nerves.” He spits out the statement in hopes that it quells the other’s sudden concern.

 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Wooyoung sounds deflated. So maybe he’s not as sober as San thought.

 

He squints at the other’s face. It’s dark in the alley, but he can make out the downturned lips, the depressed look in his eyes. For some reason, that makes him even _more_ irritated. If Wooyoung knew - or even _thought_ \- San was feeling overwhelmed, why wouldn’t he say something? Reach out? Ask if he was okay, if he was feeling comfortable? Why would he just… Keep doing what he’s doing and essentially ignore the siren?

 

“It’s fine,” San lies. In his head, the logical side of him insists it should be fine. However, the passion simmering in his chest tells him otherwise: it’s not fine. The two sides go back and forth. One urges him that the venomous feeling inside of him is valid. The other informs him of how absolutely childish it is to harbor such possessiveness over a mere hume. The conflict raging in the siren’s head is a nauseating inconvenience, and he does his best to stuff it deep down. Now is _not_ the time.

 

“I think the coast is clear,” He says with a sigh.

 

“Uh- Okay,” Wooyoung peeks his head out from the shady alley. “What’re we gonna do when we get back to the ship? Wait for everyone?”

 

“That’s what the captain said. Let’s go,” The siren nods toward the main street. They’re lucky. Save for the guard, the streets are basically deserted. All of the nightlife has, apparently been distilled and concentrated into the palace’s ballroom vicinity.

 

“D’you think the captain found the others?”

 

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” The siren replies, darting for cover under the archway of a nearby stoop.

 

* * *

 

“-yes! Honestly, I was knocked out, like, the whole time!” Yunho rolls around on Prince Mingi’s bed, insides lurching from just recounting the entire Ubureru saga. The entire thing transpired over a day, but it felt like a week.

 

“Wh- How can you not remember what it feels like to be drowned?” The prince lets out a laugh of disbelief.

  
The two had lapsed into comfortable conversation. Most of it consisted of Yunho telling his thrilling life story. He hadn’t intended to do that, but the prince kept asking. And, well, if Prince Mingi asks anything, who is Yunho to deny him?

 

Turns out, he wasn’t without his fair share of stories, either. For a guy who claims his life is boring, Prince Mingi’s managed to snake his way into some precarious stuff. (Though, of course, he’s done nothing nearly as illegal as Yunho.)

 

Yunho gave his majesty a sort of abridged overview of how he’d gotten to Venus in the first place. He says that they borrowed a Coalition ship and that some people were disgruntled with the delivery job they’d done. Maybe Prince Mingi filled in holes himself, or maybe he took Yunho’s words at face value. Maybe he didn’t care enough to question it at all. Whatever brewed in that pretty head of his, it didn’t prompt his majesty to ask too many questions. For that, Yunho is grateful.

 

Prince Mingi, in exchange, told Yunho about the time he’d used every single sheet he could inconspicuously snatch to make a rope and escape his room once. He talked about how, one time, he’d snuck a few bottles of wine into his room when he was younger. He got so drunk that his parents told their diplomatic guests that he’d fallen ill when, in reality, he just couldn’t walk or talk without slurring. Another time: his majesty once fell asleep in a sauna and was gone so long that the king and queen sent out a search party.

 

Saunas and spas are his favorite, Yunho learned, and he _can’t stand_ bugs. He likes poetry and dancing which his parents find frivolous, and consequently he has one of his butlers buy him poetry books on the down low. Prince Mingi is a tall individual with broad shoulders, but his physicality is that of someone Hongjoong’s size. His mouth is huge, and he opens it wide when he laughs which seems to be often - almost as often as he swears. Or, well, thinks about swearing. He doesn’t do it in front of people.

 

“I’m serious, I don’t,” Yunho insists. He’d rolled around a few times, but the two have basically occupied the same positions for - well, Yunho’s not sure how long. They’re comfortably sprawled out on the massive, plush mattress, only sitting up when they want to speak emphatically. “I mean- Maybe my brain blocked out the memory?”

 

“Trauma does that sometimes,” The prince remarks. “And it does sound pretty traumatic.”

 

“Yeah, I dunno. Okay- I remember it one time, but… Like my chest hurt from trying to hold my breath. And I was, like, super panicked- I was surprised, too. I mean- these people gave me no warning.”

 

“The sirens… Hm,” Prince Mingi nods. Apparently Venusians knew of them - not much, but enough to stay away. Seems like everyone was in on it but ATEEZ’s crew. Woops.

 

“Yeah, I was freaking out and- and taken by surprise. It hurt, but then I like- I breathed in and… Well it got dark.” Yunho shrugs, ruffling the silky brocade duvet beneath him.

 

“That’s intense.”

 

“I dunno. I blacked out pretty quick, but apparently the others weren’t so lucky,” Yunho frowns. “I got smacked awake a bit later and everyone was gone. Except- well, except for a nice siren. We made a new friend- his name is San.”

 

“San?”

 

“Yup. San- it means mountain, apparently. Anyways, so Hongjoong told me that San cut some sort of deal with their douchey chief guy.”

 

“Hongjoong- your captain?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Ah-ha! I’m remembering.”

 

“You really are,” Yunho grins. He’s honestly surprised. It crashes over him occasionally like far spread out cracks of thunder. He’s not just having boy talk with some random citizen - he’s loafing around with _his majesty_ , Prince Song Mingi of Neith. This guy’s got  all kinds of royal shit to deal with, but he’s still making an effort to engage in conversation with a lowlife. Yunho doesn’t even know how to feel. Flattered? Fetishized? Blessed? Everything he possibly could feel seems to be tossing around in his stomach like clothes on the spin cycle. The feelings keep him from ever feeling secure or settled down. As relaxed as the atmosphere is, there’s still some perpetual nagging sensation prodding at his guts and chest.

 

“So- Wait, what was the deal?” Prince Mingi asks.

 

“I dunno, I guess- well, San convinced the guy to give us our lives.”

 

“Right- Well, that makes sense.”

 

“Yeah, but we took him with us. San was exiled to land, and my captain welcomed him onto our ship. He’s one of us now.”

 

“Damn,” The prince cracks a smile and god is that intoxicating. Yunho isn’t sure he’ll tire of seeing it in its many incarnations. Sometimes, he sort of half-grin in a lopsided way. When he’s really humored, though, then his _entire face_ illuminates, and it’s maybe the prettiest thing Yunho’s ever seen. “Your captain seems like a pretty cool guy.”

 

“Cooler than me?” Yunho pouts dramatically.

 

“Wh- Of course not,” The prince reaches out to ruffle Yunho’s hair. Given that he’d been petting the canis earlier, the brief touch isn’t really peculiar or out of place. “Still… Do you think he’d take on a Venusian prince?”

 

Yunho’s nose wrinkles, “Oh god- no- I mean- he’d take anyone in who’s nice. Hell, he even took in the not-so-nice Petty Officer- I mean, uh-” The prisoner. That’s one thing he’d tactfully omitted from his storytelling. At least up to this point. Yunho just treads forward, like he hadn’t totally slipped up. “You don’t wanna ride with us, trust me.” He laughs it off.

 

“It seems pretty damn exciting, though. You get to see lots of exciting places.”

 

Ah, yes. Waste planets. Space colonies. Jail cells. Tropical islands with evil merpeople. Exciting.

 

“Okay, pack your stuff,” Yunho jokes. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning, have us a fun adventure.”

 

Prince Mingi laughs sheepishly and moves a hand to cover his face, “God- I wish.”

 

“Do you, though? Do you really? Some of our, uh, altercations are pretty deadly.”

 

“But you live to tell the tale!”

 

“Yeah- up to this point! Who knows when our next near-death planet expulsion is gonna be?”

 

“You’d protect me, right?”

 

“What?! No- You protect _me_ ,” Yunho responds.

 

“Nuh-uh,” The prince’s face lights up as he laughs and shakes his head. “No way. I’m not brave like you. I’d be in the corner crying my eyes out somewhere.”

 

“A coward? Okay- You nearly climbed down- what did you say, five? Six stories? Just to sneak out of your room.”

 

“That’s not brave that’s stupid.”

 

“Trust me, in my experience, those two are basically the same thing.”

 

“Well, you are the expert. I’ll take your word for it on account of the fact that I know jack shit about being brave.”

 

“Oh come on.”

 

“No- I’m serious I’m a-” Prince Mingi’s tone lowers slightly. It’s subtle, but the canis’s keen ears pick up on it. The subtle dejection in his voice, the way his eyes flit away. “I’m a total coward.”

 

Yunho frowns. He doesn’t like seeing the prince deride himself like that. Yunho doesn’t know his life story, doesn’t know his most inner thoughts or his day to day. All he knows of Prince Song Mingi is the man in front of him, and that man doesn’t seem particularly cowardly to him. Jittery around bugs? Very. A coward? No.

 

“I don’t think you’re a coward,” Yunho states like his opinion is doctrine.

 

“Well, we haven’t been acquainted for long. Trust me, I seriously could never do the things you’ve done.”

 

“Like what? Almost getting killed? Freelancing?”

 

That pulls a chuckle out of the prince, “You know what I mean.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“I could never, ever just- jump into danger or explore some uncharted planet. If the world started caving under my feet, I’d be too scared to even try running, and if I was trapped underground, I probably would never climb out.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I know myself.”

 

“I think… You could surprise yourself,” Yunho says seriously. “I mean- I surprise myself every day. So does the captain. Situations like that, they kinda bring something out of you.”

 

“Mm-mm,” Prince Mingi shakes his head. “Nope. Not me.”

 

“ _Yes_. Yes you. I believe you can be brave.”

 

“What makes you believe that? Is it because I’m tall? I swear, being tall makes people assume all types of things about you-”

 

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho chuckles. “It’s just that… You know there’s something else about humecanis’s I didn’t tell you.”

 

“Hm? What did you hold out on me for?”

 

“Well, it’s not exactly concrete science, but sort of a… Working theory slash wives’ tale.”

 

The prince quirks an eyebrow curiously.

 

Yunho elaborates, “They say that humecanis’s keen senses stretch beyond just smelling and hearing. We’re also genuine empaths. We can read the room better than anyone else, know how a person’s feeling even if they don’t show it. We can sense things that others can’t- like if a person’s intentions are good and bad. Or if something bad is about to happen.”

 

“Really?” Prince Mingi props himself up on his elbow, very interested. “Have you ever done that before? Been able to sense things like that?”

 

Yunho shrugs, “I haven’t done anything crazy like predict a storm- there’s been stories like that. But…” He trails off and gazes at the prince next to him. Yunho had never genuinely tried to sense a person’s character - usually it comes to him in “vibes”, really. He gets good vibes or bad vibes. Someone makes him feel at ease or sets his teeth on edge. His majesty is definitely the former, there’s no doubt about that.

 

“There’s a fierceness in you, Prince Song Mingi,” Yunho says sounding more sagely than he’d intended to. He feels sheepish afterwards, like he’d been trying too hard.

 

“You’re just saying that,” The prince protests.

 

“No, I’m not! I’m serious,” Yunho, who’d been on his back, rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow. Mirroring his majesty, he can look him in the eye better, and he reiterates his point. “Prince Mingi, you say you’re a coward like it’s some life sentence, but you have it in you to be bold.”

 

The prince presses his lips together. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments - just stares at Yunho with questions brewing behind his eyes.

 

“You think so?” He finally asks, his voice hushed like he’s speaking in secrets.

 

“I know so- and I’m not saying that to be, like, corny or nice, either.”

 

Prince Mingi’s eyes cast down. His lashes fan out prettily on top of his carved cheekbones, and Yunho can’t help but take a second to drool over the detail. Another spell of silence ensues. There seems to be an uncertainty hanging in the air. Yunho can’t quite place it, though. His majesty looks like he’s thinking about something - wrestling even.

 

“You think I can do something bold?” The prince’s voice comes out as a whisper. It’s weird, strained somehow, and his eyes are still fixed somewhere under Yunho’s own.

 

“I told you, I _know_ you ca-” The canis doesn’t finish that thought. Thinking abruptly leaves his brain- the building- no, the planet. There are no thoughts anymore. They’ve gone. Instead there’s just surging, rushing blood swelling in all the wrong places entirely too quickly. Why?

 

Because Prince Mingi decided to take Yunho’s earlobe between his free thumb and forefinger.

 

That’s all. Not because of anything genuinely stimulating - just a single touch. In his defense, the canis tells himself that it’s the surprise that really got him - the suddenness of it all and the strangeness leading up to it.

 

Yunho almost feels like he’s been smacked in the face. That’s the best way to describe the prickling of heat on his cheeks. Breathing. That’s a thing. That’s a good thing to do - he tells himself. He reminds himself to breathe because, for an instant, he’d completely forgotten. His eyes follow the prince’s gaze and he realizes that Prince Mingi isn’t looking somewhere indiscriminate but at his… Lips?

 

No, that can’t be right.

 

Am I dead? The canis wonders. That is the only viable possibility for what is transpiring. Death and deliverance to… Heaven? Hell?

 

“It’s so cute,” Prince Mingi coos hushedly, “The way your tail wags.”

 

Yunho jolts at that. He didn’t even notice his tail was wagging - stupid, treacherous bastard. He might as well wear a sign that says “I LOVE PETS FROM PRINCE SONG MINGI” - that’d be less embarrassing. What is there to even say to that? “Thank you”? “I think it’s cute how you breathe and exist”? “Please adopt me as a palace pet”?

 

A thickness drapes itself over the two, and Yunho feels increasingly hot. Sweat makes his secondhand Venusian number cling to him uncomfortably, and he wishes he could throw it off. Not that he’s thinking about Prince Mingi taking it off or anything. Because he’s not.

 

Yunho attempts to diffuse some of the tension,“Your majesty…” His voice sort of fizzles out. He really didn’t have a plan as to what to say. Honestly, he hoped that the words would come out effortlessly, just implant themselves in his head. They didn’t, and instead he trails off and stares at the other’s eyelashes again.

 

“You seem to like getting pet around your ears,” The prince says in a quiet voice. “I wonder what other spots make your tail wag like that…”

 

Is that… Is he being dirty?

 

Is that a dirty thing?

 

It definitely sounds like a dirty thing. How can it _not_ be taken that way?

 

Maybe it’s not dirty without context. But, given that Prince Mingi is caressing his earlobe and staring at his lips, Yunho thinks it’s safe to read between the lines here. Even fantasizing about Prince Mingi saying something like that to him makes Yunho’s head spin. Dizzying heat washes over him in a wave, roasting his brain and blurring his vision. Suddenly, his heartbeat is the loudest thing in the room. He almost doesn’t register the other’s fingers walking their way over to his lips.

 

Is this real life?

 

Entirely too many questions pop up in Yunho’s head. He’s incapable of answering any of them, too busy trying not to succumb to the heat baking him inside and out. The prince gently presses against the corner of Yunho’s upper lip, exposing his canines again.

 

In spite of everything, a nagging voice manages to penetrate the canis’s bleary, lustful thoughts. It sounds kinda like Hongjoong and shouts a stark, truthful reminder:

 

This is Prince Mingi of Neith.

 

The prince whose _wedding_ brought everyone there in the first place. The prince who Yunho has zero business even being in the same room with. The one would realistically throw Yunho under the bus if a scandal breaks out. _That_ prince. He is betrothed and you’re probably some premarital-panic distraction coping mechanism.

 

Yunho’s initial reaction to all of these facts, to this voice of logic in his head, is that he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all. He knows that there is no future for him and Prince Song Mingi, but he’s happy to pretend just for a little bit.

 

That conviction rapidly disintegrates, though. The word “betrothal” burns into his brain.

  
Fuck, Yunho had almost forgotten, this guy’s getting married. What is he doing with someone who’s engaged? Yunho’s never, ever wanted to be a homewrecker. How could he get in between two people and live with himself? Still, his body’s reactions are hard to counteract. The prince swipes a thumb over Yunho’s lips and licks his own.

 

Fuck.

 

Why is it so hard to be a decent person?

 

Prince Mingi speaks again - his voice low like a growl,“Yunho, this probably sounds impulsive, but…”

 

No, Yunho pleads internally, don’t say that! No matter what the prince says after those words, it can’t be good! He pleads with himself, too, urging him to do, well, something.

  
He wants to stop it. Needs to- for his wellbeing and the health of the Prince’s upcoming marriage. Shouldn’t he be with his betrothed?

 

Quick, Yunho, think! He tells himself.

 

Think.

 

Think.

 

Ignore Prince Mingi’s proximity, and definitely ignore his sinfully gorgeous lips. Don’t think about his mouth and what great things he can probably do with it - think of a way to stop this!

 

Think.

 

Think.

  
Think.

 

“Does your wife like dogs?!” Yunho word vomits a tad too loudly.

 

Good one, Yunho thinks to himself, you really nailed it.

 

Prince Mingi freezes. The entire room seems to freeze over with him, and Yunho practically shivers from the chill. Whatever spell of intimacy had cast itself over the two is gone, effectively lifted by Yunho’s tactless exclamation. His majesty swallows, blinking a few times confusedly. The smolder on his face is replaced with his more typical, wide-eyed cute expression.

 

“U-Um,” The prince sounds sheepish, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Yunho considers that maybe even he wasn’t in his right mind at the moment. A new wave of heat crashes over the canis, but this time it’s embarrassment. Judging by the prince’s hesitance, the sensation is mutual.

 

Prince Mingi clears his throat awkwardly before answering, “I- um, I don’t know. I’ve never met her.”

 

“How can you not know that ab- wait what?!” Yunho rapidly transitions from shame to absolute and utter shock. His eyes blow wide open and his jaw drops incredulousy, “You- You haven’t- No-”

 

Prince Mingi frowns slighty and nods, “I haven’t met her yet.”

 

“But- but- but-” Royalty is confusing. That’s the takeaway the canis is getting from this entire experience. Royalty is very, _very_ confusing. “How can you marry a person you haven’t even met?”

 

His majesty sighs, “It doesn’t matter if we’ve met or not. What’s important is that it’ll strengthen our alliance with Amalthea and guarantee the stability of the line.”

 

“Wh- Wh- Wh- I only understood like half of those words,” Yunho stutters.

 

“It’s a political marriage,” The prince clarifies. “We’re doing it so both of our countries are stronger. It’s what our parents wanted.”

 

Yunho is devastated upon digesting the news. All of those fairy tales he’d read as a kid? _Lies_. Lies! He feels utterly betrayed by the authors of the aforementioned works, but more than that he feels his heart ache for Prince Mingi.

 

“That’s ridiculous!” The canis says, reinvigorated and impassioned.

 

“That’s my life,” The prince shrugs.

 

“Your life is going to be spent in the company of a total stranger?”

 

“I mean- obviously we’ll get to know each other after the fact,” Prince Mingi tries to put out a consolation - though Yunho isn’t sure why. It’s not _his_ life that’s getting decided for him at age twenty.

 

“After you’re married? So the first time you’re gonna see her is on the altar?”

 

“That’s tradition.”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Yunho exclaims impulsively. “What if she’s ugly?”

 

Prince Mingi doesn’t take offense - thank god. Instead, he snorts.

 

“She’s not ugly. I’ve seen pictures of her,” The prince replies. “Apparently, I’ve met her, too. When we were kids, I guess.”

 

“Wh- Bu-” A flurry of emotions toils in Yunho’s chest.

 

He’s upset for the sake of the prince who’s forced into a loveless, arranged marriage. He’s shocked that his majesty is taking it so well, so readily. Most of all: he’s pissed at himself for not letting the guy make a move. If he’d known there wasn’t actually a relationship at stake, things would’ve played out _a lot_ differently!

 

“You seem a bit worked up, are you okay?” Prince Mingi asks, authentic concern on his face.

 

Yunho sits up, “Are _you_ okay?”

 

“I-” His majesty hesitates for a second before continuing. He sits upright, too, and looks Yunho in the eye. “I’m Prince Song Mingi of Neith. And when I get married, that’s gonna change to King Song Mingi. That’s what matters. I’ll learn how to be okay.”

 

The humecanis deflates, his shoulders sagging and his lips turning down at the edges, “That’s not an answer.”

 

“Yunho, you seem concerned,” The prince’s tone changes. It’s no longer honest, casual, and vulnerible. It, too, has frozen over, switched out for the more formal tone he’d taken when they’d just met hours ago. “You really shouldn’t be. I promise, it’s not as big a deal as you think. My betrothed and I will be partners and companions.”

 

“What about lovers?” Yunho asks. “Will you be able to cry on her shoulder when you’re sad? Or swear in front of her?”

 

“Yunho-”

 

“I’m serious, I just-” Yunho takes a second to breathe and calm down. He shouldn’t care this much. It’s not his life or his choice. Why does it matter? (A passing thought tells him that if he’d just let the guy bang him like he probably would’ve, he wouldn’t be so worked up now.) “You said this is what your parents wanted, but what about you?”

 

“I… I want what’s best for my country,” Prince Mingi replies, and he seems honest in doing so - ever the dutiful prince.

 

“What about for you?”

 

“That’s selfish.”

 

“I didn’t ask if it was selfish,” Yunho says insistently. “Just- Just have the audacity to fantasize for one second, okay? If you didn’t have your parents or a fancy country to run, what would you want?”

 

The prince presses his lips together and looks down at his lap. He clenches and unclenches his fists in the sheets beneath him. When he finally musters up the nerve to answer, his voice is quiet again, weak and vulnerible. Open.

 

“Well, of course I’d want to marry for passion. Doesn’t- doesn’t everyone? I mean- a lot of marriages on Venus are doctored, but I read stories and see plays and movies. It’s not always easy- like, in some of those plays lots of people die. Lots. But-” He sighs wistfully. “-god I’d love to be able to marry someone I really loved. Like- wake up next to them all happy and stuff.”

 

“What did your parents say when you told them this?”

 

The prince freezes for a second, “I- I would never tell them that. Are you kidding me?”

 

“Wh- No. Why wouldn’t you tell them that? What did you say when they told you about your betrothal?”

 

“Uh, I dunno. Probably ‘yes, sir’ and maybe ‘I’m honored’ or something.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Because I- I told you,” The prince lets out a wry, humorless chuckle, “I’m a coward.”

 

Yunho frowns,“Mingi…”

 

Before he can get shot for forgetting to address the man by his title, a shrill ringing sounds out from Prince Mingi’s wrist.

 

_“Briiiing-! Briiing-!”_

 

“Wh-” “What the…?” Both prince and pauper jump at the same time, eyes wide and hearts pounding from the sudden startle.

 

“Wh- What is that?” Yunho asks, covering his ears.

 

The prince furrows his brows at his wrist and slides back his sleeve, revealing a fanciful bracelet of some kind. It’s shiny and encrusted with jewels, but one gem sticks out from the others. Yunho narrows his eyes at the thing, a glassy bulb of sorts that flashes with red light.

 

 _“Briiiiing-! Briiiiing-!”_ “💧︎♏︎♍︎◆︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎ ♋︎●︎♏︎❒︎⧫︎-!” A robotic voice chirps in Venusian.

 

His majesty taps the glassy orb dubiously, and a crackling noise comes from the little node.

 

_“Shshhshs- Crack- crack-”_

 

“-ait-! Wait I think I got it!” A voice finally comes through.

 

An eerily familiar voice.

 

“Uh- What is that?” Yunho asks again, his heart sinking. For some reason, he has a feeling that something bad is happening. Either that, or someone trying to get ahold of Prince Mingi sounds a lot like his captain.

 

“This?” His majesty lifts his wrist. “Just a communicator bracelet. It’s only linked up to a few secure Venusian networks, though. I- I don’t know why someone would be speaking in Galactic tongue.”

 

“Ahem-” The staticy voice coming from the device clears its throat. “Jeong Yunho, if you can hear this, this is your captain speaking!”

 

Oh, no.

 

Hongjoong continues, “Some, uh, something came u- Whoa-!” _“Thud-!”_ “-something’s come up and you need to meet us at the ship, like, now!”

 

It takes a few seconds for the prince to catch on. When he does, his eyebrows raise, and he narrows his eyes at Yunho.

 

“Wait- He said- ‘your captain’... Jeong Yunho…” The prince thinks out loud. “Is that- Is he talking to you. Is this your captain?”

 

As if sensing his inquiry, another voice crops up on the audio feed:

 

“Hongjoong- Hurry up, will you? We’re almost to the docking lot-”

 

Oh, good. Jongho is with him, too.

 

“But- How do we know if Yunho heard me?”

 

“I can hear you!” Yunho yanks the prince’s wrist thoughtlessly and speaks into the orb. When he realizes what he’d done, he sheepishly releases his grip and gives the noble an apologetic look.

 

“Yunho,” The prince asks, “What did you and your crew do?”

 

“Nothing! At least- Not that I know of.”

 

“-m gonna say it one more time,” Hongjoong’s voice comes over the feed. “Yunho they know we got on the planet illegally! Meet us at the docking lot so we can get the hell out of here- before they block the barrier! ...Please.”

 

Panic petrifies Yunho. He’s pretty sure he’s turned to stone, actually. Because he can’t move or even breathe, really. That’s it. His bubble: popped. His brief fantasy about banging a hot prince: dead. His life: over.

 

He’s busted. Prince Mingi knows the truth, and his crew’s about to get on the ship and fly off without him because he’s probably gonna get skewered on one of those giant rifles the guard carries around.

 

Yunho waits.

 

He waits and waits and waits an agonizingly long time. What’s it gonna be? Prince Mingi doesn’t seem violent, per se, but Yunho could see the prince smacking him. Maybe he’ll punch him instead. A kick seems far-fetched, but not terribly outrageous, either. He continually waits, and with each passing second, a part of him dies.

  
When? He begs the question. When will his fate be decided.

 

The canis, tired of wallowing in dread, braves a look at the prince’s face. What’s he gonna see, he wonders? Disdain? Condescension? Or pure, unadulterated fury?

 

What he isn’t prepared for is a smile.

 

Oh god, Yunho laments. The prince is gonna kick his ass, and he’s gonna smile while doing it.

 

“Uh- So, um, what’s gonna happen now?” Yunho slowly starts shrinking away from the other.

 

“What do you _think_ is going to happen?” The prince asks, smirking.

 

Great. An ambiguous question type answer. That’s helpful.

 

“U-Um, you’re gonna call the guards? And they will kindly escort me off the premises?” Yunho squeaks out.

 

Prince Mingi breaks out into loud, mirthful laughter. It’s high and howling, and it makes Yunho’s ears ring. The prince is so humored he grabs his gut and even falls back onto the bed. Is he some sort of sadist? Yunho wonders.

 

“I’m sorry, but, um- Is- Is that funny?” Yunho bites his lip worriedly.

 

His majesty sits up again and wipes a tear from his eye, “I’m sorry I- I thought it’d be funny, but I feel kinda bad. I- No, god- I’m not gonna tell on you.”

 

“You- What? Wait… Seriously?” The canis waits for the rug to get pulled out from under him. Things have been way too good for way too long. It’s gotta happen any second now.

 

“I knew you snuck in the second you told me your name.”

 

“My- My name?”

 

“Well, your group’s name. ATEEZ?”

 

“U-Uh, yeah? What about it?”

 

The prince grins, “I personally approved all of the entertainment booked for the festivals and gala. It’s one of the few things about this wedding I got control over.”

 

“Oh,” Yunho feels dumb. “But- Wait- if that’s true, why didn’t you say anything?”

 

The prince shrugs, “I don’t care. Lots of people sneak onto this planet. People usually don’t cause problems. Plus, you’re cute.”

 

Yunho flushes and opts not to acknowledge the cute comment, “Sorry for deceiving you.”

 

The prince unclasps his bracelet and taps the glass node again. A projected screen pops up, and his majesty taps a few things before handing it over to Yunho.

 

“Here,” He says, “Tell your friends you’re okay.”

 

“Huh-?” Yunho eyes the bracelet curiously.

 

“Just press the- this one,” Mingi points to a yellow icon beneath a line of Venusian text. “Let them know where you are.”

 

“But… But why are you helping me? You’re like- aiding and abetting my escape. As a prince.”

 

Prince Mingi shrugs, “I’m about to get tied down for the rest of my life. Might as well live on the edge a bit while I still can.”

 

Yunho gives the prince a grateful smile and taps the icon he’d been instructed to. Shockingly, a clicking noise sounds, and Hongjoong’s voice comes through the node again.

 

“-hat? What’s it doing? What did this do?”

 

“Hongjoong?” Yunho asks.

 

“Wh- That sounds like Yunho- is that Yunho? Yunho is that you?!” The captain’s voice blares loudly from the speaker, and Yunho cringes.

 

“Yes, it’s me, captain.”

 

“...Prove it.”

  
“What?”

 

“Prove that it’s really Jeong Yunho.”

  
“Wh- Do you really have time for that if you’re on the run?!” Yunho groans exasperatedly.

 

“Prove it!”

 

Yunho rolls his eyes, “Fine. When you were in middle school, you used to write self-insert fanfiction. You accidentally handed one of these in as your final paper for lit-”

 

“ _Okay_ -! Okay! That’s enough! I believe you!” (“Hold up, you wrote _what_?” Jongho titters in the background.) “Where the fuck have you been?!”

 

“I-”

 

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

 

“Well, I-”

 

“Three fucking hours-” (“It’s been closer to four,” Jongho interjects.) “-four fucking hours! Close to four _fucking hours_ , that’s how long.”

 

“I’m-”

 

“Where the fuck have you been?! This better be fucking good. Don’t tell me you stowed away to the kitchen you fucking fatass!”

 

“I’ve been _fucking_ the _prince_!” Yunho shouts before Hongjoong can cut him off again.

  
Those words hang in the air for a bit before Yunho realizes what he said.

 

“I’ve been _with_ the _fucking prince_!” He corrects, praying that Prince Mingi didn’t take offense. Luckily, his majesty seems more amused than anything. At least, that’s what the silent grasping of the sides and face scrunched with held back laughter indicates.

 

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s voice sounds level which is in no way reassuring to Yunho. Quite the opposite - Joong’s voice levelling off is a _bad_ sign. He’s the type who becomes terrifyingly zen when he’s super, super pissed. “Yunho when you say prince… Do you mean the Prince of Neith? _That_ prince?”

 

“U-Uh-?” Yunho glances over in search of help. Prince Mingi’s curled up on the bed again, hand clamped over his red face. “Yes?”

 

“...Yunho? Yunho- what did you do?”

 

“We talked-”

  
“ _Yunho_ -”

 

“He’s never seen a humecanis before, he was curious.”

 

“Yunho-!” Hongjoong sounds like he’s ready to reach through the little glass orb and strangle his pilot.

 

“What?”

 

“Yunho- I- I don’t know where to begin-”

 

Jongho’s voice cuts off the captain, “-Why does this keep happening?! Okay- next planet, _I_ get dibs on banging someone hot while the rest of _you_ get your asses whooped by law enforcement.”

 

“How about nobody bangs anyone, and we don’t get chased by law enforcement?” Yunho posits. “Is that an option?

 

“No!” “No!” The two on the other side of the line holler.

 

“Wait-“ Hongjoong redacts. “I mean yes! I mean- No sex! Stop talking about sex!”

 

“You’re the one that brought it up. You know I’m in the presence of a prince,” Yunho snarks. “This is very inappropriate talk to be having in his presence.”

 

“What are you- Where the fuck are you?!”

 

Yunho glances around at Prince Mingi’s massive room. He can easily fit the apartment he grew up in inside. Maybe three of them, actually. Behind the bed, a tall, prettiful arch opens up into the outdoors. Mingi can just barely make out stars specking the night sky behyond the balcony.

 

“I’m in the prince’s room,” Yunho says matter-of-factly.

 

A load groaning sound muffles the line, making crackly static come out. Yunho makes out quiet chatter.

 

“Talk to him- talk to him- because if I do, I’m going to kill him-“ Hongjoong mutters to Jongho, apparently done with their conversation.

 

“Uh- Well,” Jongho coughs awkwardly. “I guess the captain gave the phone thing to me. So, do you know where the prince’s room is?”

 

“Uhh,” Yunho looks around again. No, he doesn’t. Not really. It’s… Somewhere with a balcony. “Hold up, let me see- your majesty?” He turns to Mingi.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Your majesty where, um, where are we?”

 

“East wing, sixth story,” Prince Mingi answers, sitting up again.

 

“Did you hear that?” Yunho asks. “East wing, sixth story. “It’s really pretty! Huge room- like, huge, and there’s a balcony, and the bed is a circle- you know what, why don’t I just head to the ship-“

 

“No!” “No.” The two on the other side shout. Yunho winces from the loudness of it.

 

“Fuck- We don’t have time for this,” Hongjoong (apparently) snatches the communicator back. “Don’t suppose your BFF the prince can call the guard off.”

 

“He’s about to be king, I’m not gonna put him in a position like that! Do you know how sketchy that is? His peoplewould never trust him- hell he could get in trouble.”

 

“Well I am _so_ sorry his majesty might be put in a sticky situation on our account,” Hongjoong replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Thank you,” Yunho willfully ignores the sarcasm. Prince Mingi has been an absolute gem, he’s not going to take advantage of him.  

 

“Ugh- Fuck-!” The captain curses, and a few loud noises filter through the node’s hidden speaker. Shouts, thuds, and thwacks - it sounds like trouble. Yunho frowns.

 

“I can call off the guard,” His majesty offers. He gives Yunho a reassuring squeeze on the knee. The seriousness must just now be dawning on him, because before he’d been cackling like a hyena.

 

“The guard doesn’t… They don’t shoot on sight- right?”

 

“Not unless it’s confirmed their target is armed and dangerous. The big guns are just for show, really.”

 

“I knew it,” Yunho mutters to himself. He flashes Mingi an assuring grin, “Don’t worry. They might seem a bit colorful, but my crew’s capable. They’ll be fine.”

 

“This is not fine!” Jongho’s shouting comes through the speaker.

 

“Fuck-“ Hongjoong takes hold of the node again. “Okay, um- you said you were on a balcony, right?”

 

“I’m not on the balcony, I’m in a room with-“

 

“Get on the balcony.”

 

Yunho blinks confusedly for a second, “What?”

 

“Get on the fucking balcony. We’ll pick you up.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Do I _sound_ like I’m fucking joking- oh, hey. Wooyoung and San made it in one piece,” Hongjoong gets sidetracked. Apparently by their roguish and siren friend.

 

“You really want me to go onto the balcony?”

 

“Yes, Yunho,” Hongjoong sounds exasperated. “I do. So we can pick your ass up, get off of this planet, and leave before they vaporize us.”

 

“O-Okay, I-“

 

“East wing, sixth story, right?”

 

“Uh-“

 

“Just be out there and, like, wave a bit or something, okay?

 

“B-“

 

“We’ll be there in a sec. Bye- fuck!”

 

The line cuts off there. Yunho frowns.

 

“Let me show you to the balcony,” Prince Mingi says. In spite of the chaos reigning on the ground, in his little corner of Neith, everything feels quieter. His majesty ushers Yunho off of the bed and leads him to the balcony.

 

Yunho’s jaw drops, and from it so does a hushed, “Whoa…”

 

The balcony matches everything else - intricately carved railing, gorgeous, pearlescent tiling. That’s not what Yunho’s looking at, though. His eyes are immediately drawn up above to the night sky. It’s weird. One would think after so much time spent in space, the night sky would lose its charms. However, for some reason nothing quite trumps the infinitesimal feeling of smallness a person gets from their vantage on a planet’s surface.

 

Every sky has its own color and quirks. On Venus, its tone skews more deep violet than blue. The stars burn and flicker in all colors - bright, blazing whites to subdued gold hues. Their moon looks like a waning crescent. Yunho doesn’t remember seeing a moon - maybe it’s simulated for aesthetics. It doesn’t make much of a difference. Even if it is just there to look pretty, it definitely accomplishes its job.

 

Something about the night sky is so inviting, and knowing that his view will soon be blocked by ATEEZ makes Yunho appreciate it even more. It’s like standing out and observing the calm before the storm. He wonders how many times Prince Mingi’s looked out at those stars.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The prince says hushedly next to Yunho. The two had taken spots leaning against the railing, both of their gazes drawn upward and outward. “I-I suppose it’s not very exciting to you, though. I mean you’ve been there.” There’s a tone of awe in his majesty’s voice of which Yunho feels very undeserving.

 

“It doesn’t get old, though,” Yunho replies. “Looking at the stars like this, I mean. Something about seeing them from a planet is sorta magical… Makes me feel like a kid again.” Briefly, a memory plays through his head. A time that feels like a hundred years ago. He and Hongjoong snuck up to the roof of their building during nighttime - they did that a lot, those two. Hongjoong told Yunho stories and talk about how one day they’d leave their crappy planet and sail among the stars.

 

Yunho smiles to himself.

 

They did. They’d done exactly what they’d set out to do. It turned out to be a lot less romantic than the storybooks said it would be, but they can genuinely say they’re free. They did it.

 

“Me too,” The prince agrees, a wistful smile spreading across his lips. “A lot changes, but… The stars stay the same. Sometimes I’d sleep out here without telling anyone.”

 

Yunho chuckles at the idea of little Prince Mingi dragging a pillow and blanket out to sleep on the cold, hard balcony floor. Sounds like something Yunho would’ve done. Thinking about it, he’s surprised he didn’t ever try and camp out on the rooftop.

 

It’s funny to think about, how the two share similarities. It’s not their upbringing, obviously. It seems like something deeper than that. The two think alike. They’re both forthright and open-minded. It’s soothing in a strange way for Yunho, to know that a person like him could make it as a prince. If they knew each other as kids, they probably would’ve been menaces. He laughs inwardly at the thought.

 

The two lapse into a comfortable silence considering the stars before them. Yunho briefly wonders what’s on Prince Mingi’s mind, but he doesn’t ask. Something’s nice about the quiet.

 

“What’s it like up there?” His majesty asks after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

 

“Hm? Oh- In space?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s kind of like… Being in a desert. A lot of it looks the same. There’s so many stars. A lot of times, I don’t pay it much mind, but sometimes it’s nice to look out. It feels endless. That can be kinda scary sometimes, but it’s cool,too.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” The canis nods. “When you’ve got a ship, it feels like there’s nowhere you can’t go and nothing you can’t do. There’s so many colonized planets out there, but there’s so many uncharted ones, too. Some are really isolated and some are super busy. It’s cool to think that you can just… Go wherever.”

 

“Wow. I can’t imagine,” His majesty sighs.

 

Suddenly, the veil of serenity that had surrounded them gets pulled aside. Low, rumbling noises echo in the distance, and their attention is turned from the sky above to the sky in the distance. Though they can’t see anything clearly, a few flashes of light strobe over the horizon.

 

 _“Boom.” “Boom.” “Skree-!” “ Boom-!” “Bang-bang.”_ The sounds are muffled and distant, but Yunho’s got a decent idea of what’s coming at them.

 

“What’s that?” Prince Mingi asks, stepping toward the sounds on the other side of the balcony.

 

“I think…” Yunho frowns. “I think they’re coming?”

 

“Who’s coming?” Prince Mingi looks confounded.

 

Without warning, three compact cruiser-looking ships whiz by, _“Whiiiiii-IIIIII- WHIIII- WHIII-!”_ They cut the air, loud whistles sounding out in their wake.

 

Prince Mingi’s eyes blow wide open, “Are those- Those are law enforcement cruisers.”

 

“If that’s the case, then my friends are _definitely_ close.”

 

“O-Oh. Right.”

 

_“Pew-pew!” “Boom!” “Bang-bang!” “Zhoooom-!”_

 

The sounds come closer, and Yunho can make out the hull of ATEEZ scarcely in the darkness.

 

 _“Wheeeeeee-oooooooo-! Wheeeeee-oooooo-!”_ Loud sirens start blaring from the police cruisers, and little beacons spin atop the angular little ships.

 

“Your majesty,” Yunho turns to the prince, concern making his face and tail fall, “You should go inside.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t want you to get hurt or caught in the crossfire.”

 

“No,” The prince defiantly shakes his head. “They won’t hurt me, and- and I’d like to see you off.”

 

“Your majesty...“ It’s weird. They’ve just met. A few hours ago, Prince Mingi was nothing but a pretty picture on a screen. Now he’s someone that Yunho thinks he could be friends with. Maybe in some alternate universe, at least.

 

Unfortunately, in this universe, his friends are barrelling toward him in a giant combat freighter, getting shot at by half the Neith royal guard. Funny how that works.

 

“ATEEZ-!” The a voice on a loudspeaker booms across the night sky. Must be one of the cruisers. “You are under arrest for entry into Venus under false identities! Stand down, now!”

 

“Prince, you really should go in,” Yunho urges the other. He doesn’t want to see the other hurt when things get ugly (which seems like an inevitability at this point). Part of him feels embarrassed, too. Like Prince Mingi’s opinion of him will plummet when the reality of just how much of a fuckup he _really_ is comes to light.

 

Half a dozen tiny cruisers surround ATEEZ, light beacons spinning. The bulky freighter proceeds, uncaring. The squerical force field surrounding the ship absorbs the little lasers coming toward it with ease.

 

“Is that a Rattlesnake?” The Prince’s jaw drops.

 

“Uh- Yeah, that might be the model of the ship,” Yunho remarks distractedly. He’s a tad preoccupied by said Rattlesnake heading straight toward them. It’s not three kilometers away and will be at the balcony in seconds, probably. Yunho hopes they don't overshoot it. Or shoot it shoot it.

 

 _“Screeeeeeeeee-“_ A shrill, high-pitched squeak makes Yunho wince. It sounds like a ship’s loudspeaker, but for being so far away, this one’s deafening. “-s this thing working? Whoa- I think I found it? Ha-! I told you we have a loudspeaker, too!”

 

The voice sounds suspiciously like Jung Wooyoung.

 

“Attention, Neith guard!”

 

That voice is Jung Wooyoung.

 

“ _You_ surrender!” Wooyoung exclaims as if in triumph before breaking out into high pitched, squeaky giggling seconds later. He must’ve gotten pretty drunk. A few sounds muffle through ATEEZ’s apparent loudspeaker _“Scree- Click- bap-bap- click-“_ “Give that-“ “No-“ “Bap-“

 

“Jeong Yunho!” Hongjoong’s voice thunders out into the Neith night air. God forbid anyone had gone to sleep. They’re probably awake now. “I’m guessing you can hear this- get your ass on that balcony. We’re lowering the loading dock. You’ll have to a jum-“

 

 _“Pew-pew-pew!”_ A few cruisers venture shooting at the ship. ATEEZ absorbs the shots without a hitch.

 

“-hey, _rude_! I’m trying to talk here!” Joong chastises the guard forces - as if it’s his place. “Yunho, we’re coming in.” “Click.”

 

“Wh- Already?” The prince asks.

 

“I- Your majesty, you really should go inside,” Yunho frowns. With ATEEZ so close, the current situation starts really sinking in. It feels too fast, too soon. He wants to encourage the prince about his upcoming nuptials and tell him it’s gonna be okay. Part of him wants to convince the guy to stand up to his parents, to at least put off the marriage until he’s maybe explored the galaxy a bit. Prince Mingi is kind and funny, and he deserves to feel like he’s lived a full life before settling down. Ideally, he shouldn’t feel obligated to settle down at all. He ought to marry for affection and love.

 

The high whistle of jet propulsors crescendos as ATEEZ makes a hasty arrival. Soon, it’s hard to hear, the sound of the engine cutting air drowning out almost anything else.

 

“Yunho-!” The call comes from the loudspeaker first, and the canis’s head whips around to see ATEEZ’s ramp steadily descending with a loud, whirring buzz. As the ramp lowers, Yunho makes out San and Jongho in the cargo bay. Jongho, the more fortitudinous of the two, carefully steps down as the thing reaches full extension.

 

“Come on!” Jongho’s voice is surprisingly loud and clear over the sound of the engine. The Neith guard persistently circle the ship, barking out demands on their own loudspeakers. Light flashes left and right in the canis’s peripherals as their little lasers trying to make a dent in ATEEZ’s shields. but it’s all background noise to Yunho know.

 

Yunho turns to the prince, shoulders sagging and lips turned into a fake smile,“That’s my ride.”

 

Prince Mingi looks crushed. Yunho swears he’s not embellishing that. The prince’s expression almost looks like a pained grimace, and slick wetness glosses over his eyes.

 

“Yunho-“ His majesty reaches out and takes Yunho’s hands impulsively.

 

Yunho’s heart rate skyrockets, but he tries to stamp the excitement down. It’s time to leave.

 

“Good luck with everything,” Yunho tells the other, melancholy filling him to the brim.

 

“I can call off the guards. They can- they will understand-“

 

“No. I’m not putting you in that position. I mean- We just met, right? Don’t stick your neck out for me,” The words pain Yunho. It’s a bitter, stinging sensation, and it eats away at the inside of his chest.

 

Prince Mingi squeezes Yunho’s hands tighter, “I- I- This just feels really sudden.”

 

“It kinda is,” Yunho lets out a wry laugh, “But… I’m gonna be fine. And so are you. Things are gonna be great.” He forces another grin.

 

The prince frowns, and his gaze drops low, “Your tail isn’t wagging.”

 

Yunho glances over his shoulder. His majesty is right. His tail hangs limply between his legs. He hadn’t even noticed. Once again, it betrays him. There’s something poetic in it - the thing that had drawn the prince to him in the first place signals his true feelings about their goodbye.

 

“Yunho, what the hell?!” Jongho’s voice cuts through everything yet again. Seriously, one would think he’s the siren. The kid creeps lower on the loading ramp, “Let’s go. C’mon, take my hand!”

 

Yunho hesitantly pulls his hands out of the prince’s grip. A fat lump wads up in his throat, and he tries his hardest to swallow it down. His heart is screaming at him: “Don’t go! Don’t leave him! At least not without a kiss, a confession, something!” - but how stupid is that? What’s Prince Mingi gonna do? Call off his wedding so he can marry the literal nobody and they can skip off into the sunset?

 

No.

 

Prince Mingi is standing right where he belongs, and once Yunho steps onto that platform, so will he.

 

It was fun for awhile, living in that fantasyland where a prince and a kid who’d gotten smuggled onto a backwater Earth could be friends. Maybe even more in Yunho’s wildest dreams. But none of that matters anymore because Prince Mingi’s getting married, and Yunho’s ship is getting shot at.

 

“Goodbye, Prince Mingi,” Yunho says. He turns on his heel rapidly. Don’t look back, he tells himself. Don’t look back.

 

He doesn’t.

 

He doesn’t look back when he climbs onto the glittery gold railing of the balcony, and he doesn’t when he takes hold of Jongho’s outreached hand.

 

It isn’t until he’s squared up on the unstable ramp that Yunho dares look over his shoulder. Jongho and San are already disappearing back into ATEEZ’s cargo bay, but Yunho can’t take his eyes off of the prince.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Jongho yells.

 

“Yunho, we need to go!” San adds.

 

His majesty had rushed to the railing. His eyes are wide and almost… Twinkley? He stares at Yunho - at ATEEZ - in wonderment. Words seem to stand at the precipice of his tongue, but they don’t pass his lips.

 

“Yunho, come on!” Jongho urges the canis again.

 

Yunho walks backwards, facing his prince as he slowly makes his way in. Once he gets in and that ramp closes, he’ll never see Prince Song Mingi again. That shouldn’t make him so sad.

 

“The shields won’t last forever!” San hollers.

 

ATEEZ jostles slightly, and Yunho almost loses his footing. Apparently, whoever’s driving has lost their patience (or is about to). ATEEZ gently starts its ascent. It’s sluggish really, probably with the intention of convincing Yunho to get the hell inside already. Still, the canis is able to keep his footing on the moving ship, and he stubbornly stays in place.

 

“Yunho- We’re leaving!” “Dude, you’re gonna fall off!”

 

They’re still so, so close to that balcony, and Prince Mingi is leaning so far forward, he’s practically on top of the railing. For a second, Yunho thinks if he just stretches out ever so carefully, he can reach the other.

 

The world around him smudges and smears. The only thing in focus is Song Mingi.

 

Just let him go, a voice urges him. Is it a real one or one in his head? He doesn’t know.

 

Just let him go.

 

Prince Mingi says something, but Yunho doesn’t understand it. ATEEZ joggles again. The distance between the two grows from centimeters into one meter. In seconds, it’ll be two. They need to go- not need to, they _are_ going. Their ship is moving, and at this rate Yunho’s going to roll off of the ramp and come crashing six stories down.

 

So, why can’t Yunho move?

 

The prince says something again, and this time Yunho actually understands it.

 

“Wait-!” Prince Mingi yells. Before Yunho can deliver his last (for real, truly last) goodbye, his majesty moves.

 

There’s one foot on the railing, then another. Then, he leaps. His long, muscular legs stretch to the max, and he reaches out toward the humecanis. For a second - just one second - he looks like an angel in flight. Flickering lights outline his elongated silhouette like a halo, twinkling off of his lustrous suit. The fabric lifts like he’s hovering and, for that single second that stretches on to feel like a lifetime, the prince looks like he really is flying.

 

Until he doesn’t.

 

Reality snaps back into place along with the ever present truth that is gravity.

 

Panic wrenches Yunho’s heart, and before he even thinks to do it, his body’s already pushing off of the ramp, after the prince. Yunho manages to catch Prince Mingi’s wrist, and he almost feels relieved. The assurance surges through him like a bolt of lightning. There’s the flicker of the bolt, the knowledge that he’s got the prince. Then the dark aftermath, the realization that now they’re both going down. Thoughts fail to gain traction in the canis’s mind. It’s sort of a flaming mess, all the circuitry shorted out by impulse.

 

Is this it? Yunho wonders.

 

Is this how it ends?

 

He feels like there ought to be more existential dread. Or maybe some sort of knowing zen should fall over him. He’s not really sure. Except, instead of profound feelings of doneness, Yunho just feels fucking terrified. In a matter of seconds, their guts are going to decorate the manicured hedges below. There’ll be headlines about the tragic death of Prince Song Mingi just days before his wedding, and there’ll be one hell of a warrant out for the monsters who caused it.

 

One hell of a way to go.

 

“Are you insane?!” San’s voice tugs Yunho back to reality - and his strong grip tugs him back toward the loading ramp. Yunho’s descent stops with a jerk, and he tightens his hand around Prince Mingi’s wrist.

 

“Wh- San?” Yunho gapes, glancing over his shoulder to see the siren gritting his teeth in an attempt to pull him back onboard.

 

“Seriously what’s- what’s wrong with you?!” He turns to someone over his shoulder, “I’m slipping!” The siren grits his teeth, and his face scrunches with exertion. As he’d said, they start slowly sliding downward.

 

“A-are you okay?” Yunho asks the prince dazedly. Prince Mingi looks up at the canis, stunned. He seems incapable of speech at the moment. His chest heaves with rapid breath, and his eyes are blown wide open in sheer terror. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you-” Yunho twists his neck to look at San again, “-r-right?”

 

San’s brows knit together, and he seems about ready to spit a hundred curses at Yunho. He chooses not to say them (or, at the very, least he saves them).  Instead he digs his heels in and ventures a step back. Yunho feels the two of them get pulled up just a smidgeon. They might just survive this yet.

  
The canis checks on his majesty who’s gaze seems trained on the ground below. It appears they have officially started a spectacle. Laser bolts collide with ATEEZ’s outer shields, and the guard bellow threats on their loudspeakers. On the ground below, a crowd has gathered. People yell, point, and gasp, bemoaning the apparent capture of their prince.

 

 _“Pew-pew-!”_ “Unhand Prince Mingi this instant!” _“Zzz-zzt!”_ “If harm should come to Prince Song Mingi of Neith, we will have no choice but to use lethality!” _“Pew-pew-pew-!”_

 

Prince Mingi’s grip on Yunho’s wrist starts to slacken, and sweat makes his palm slick and clammy. His head almost limply dips down toward the ground.

 

“Wh- Whoa, whoa, whoa- Hey- Ming- I mean- Prince Mingi!” Yunho yells at him. His body jerks down another notch - San is still slipping. Fuck. “Your majesty stay with me!”

 

The prince dazedly regards Yunho. Yunho can tell immediately, the fright has set in. All his adrenaline is drained, and he’s realized just exactly what kind of situation he’s in.

 

Just as the prince’s head starts venturing down again, Yunho shouts at him.

 

“No- No, no, don’t look at the ground, just look at me, okay? I’ve got you,” Yunho tightens his grip until it’s almost bruising - just to emphasize the point. Like hell is he letting go. The prince nods blearily, and his hold tightens ever so slightly. “That’s right- just- my face, ignore all of the-” lasers, guns, shouting, people preemptively mourning, swearing, the shaking of the ship “-everything. Just- just look at me, okay? Look at the puppy.”

 

Prince Mingi nods again, a little bit of life returning to his eyes. Yunho - in spite of how horrifying the entire situation is - cracks a smile in hopes that it’ll lend the other some comfort. Without words, he wills the other to believe: “Everything is alright because we’ve got you. Because _I’ve_ got you.”

 

Force yanks Yunho (and Prince Mingi) up with a jerk. Then another and another until they rise toward the ramp at a steady, trudging pace. A minute later, Yunho feels the metal grating of the loading ramp press up against his back. His hold on the prince’s wrist remains steadfast. He keeps it as he slowly scoots onto the ramp, and he doesn’t let go even when his majesty’s on his hands and knees, safe on the loading ramp.

 

It isn’t until - in lieu of a lot of beration - the loading ramp finally closes that Yunho thinks to let go. The sounds of lasers and disgruntled citizens go almost mute once they’re finally encased in the layers of protective armor covering ATEEZ.

 

The adrenaline that’d been driving Yunho to keep sane and steady starts to feter out. It leaves him feeling wobbly, and he hardly understands the barrage coming at him.

  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” “Y-your highness…” “Was it that good-?” “Are you okay?” “Did you get hurt.” “Guys-” “Next time, I’m not bailing your ass out-!”

 

Yunho looks at Prince Mingi. His majesty looks okay.

  
Good.

 

That’s what matters.

 

“That’s enough!” An authoritative voice rises above the best, followed by the sound of metal clanging beneath boots. The captain has arrived. All eyes turn to him, and everything goes quiet.

 

Hongjoong heaves an exasperated sigh, “Okay. Okay… Is everyone alright? Is anybody hurt?”

 

The throng in the room - San, Jongho, Yunho and, of course, Prince Mingi - all exchange looks. They assess one another until coming to the conclusion that everyone is, in fact, okay.

 

“Good,” Hongjoong says. With that out of the way, he can stop being worried and start yelling at them. He’s about ready to do just that until his eyes dart to the royalty on board, Prince Mingi. A sheepishness comes over the captain, and he takes a second to choose more polite, constructive words. “That was very dangerous. You’re lucky Yunho’s a good man. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. And you-” He speaks pointedly to the canis, “-you…” His lips press together momentarily. “We can talk later.”

 

Oh god. That’s never good.

 

“Your majesty,” Hongjoong talks as he finishes descending the steps, “ I’m Captain Kim Hongjoong, and I see you’ve met Yunho, my pilot. I apologize for any sort of inconvenience we’ve caused you. I promise you we had no ill intentions coming onto this planet, and we did not want to make a spectacle in leaving.” Well put, diplomatic, and cooly delivered to the prince. Yunho’s proud of him.

 

Prince Mingi (who appears to have collected his wits shockingly fast) flashes a small, genial smile, “I know.” He says. “Actually I- I apologize I haven’t introduced myself. Prince Song Mingi of Neith,” He regards the others in the room.

 

San and Jongho huddle close together as if scared of the man. San’s expression is one of utter shock, whereas Jongho’s is more awe.

 

The prince doesn’t take offense to this and fills in the blanks, “You must be Choi San?” His pupils shift to the gills on his neck. “The siren.”

 

“Y-Yes,” San replies dubiously. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your majesty.”

 

Prince Mingi turns his attention to Jongho, “You’re strong, so you must be Choi Jongho.” He smiles. “I literally owe you my life. Thank you. I- I owe all of you my life, actually. It should be me apologizing to you.”

 

“All water under the bridge,” Hongjoong says, urgency in his tone. “Now- We’ll happily drop you back onto the balcony, but, um it might not be safe unless we can somehow get the guard to cease fire-”

 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Prince Mingi says, “I don’t intend on going back.”

 

A needle dropping could be heard in the aftermath of that bomb. The pause that ensues isn’t pregnant - it’s overdue. Yunho hears the words, but they still haven’t fully processed by the time the captain manages to blubber out some type of response.

 

“I- I- Um- Uh- I’m sorry- I- Is there a misunderstanding here?” He turns to Yunho, like he knows the answer. Or, more likely, like he blames Yunho for whatever the hell is going on. Yunho returns the indignant look with a little shrug.

 

“Nice ship you’ve got here. How’d you get your hands on a Rattlesnake, anyways?” Prince Mingi ignores the question and starts walking forward, toward the stairs.

 

“Uh, we stole it,” Hongjoong says. Yunho feels a jolt of pain hearing that. He’d most certainly glossed over that detail upon recounting his thrilling tales to the prince.

 

Prince Mingi’s brows furrow, and he gives Hongjoong a long, hard look. The entire rest of the crew freezes. Between all of them, a single question hangs in the air, unspoken:

 

Are we fucked _now_?

 

They’d skated by so long, this might be it. The final straw. One word from the Venusian prince, and they’re done for. After reaching whatever conclusion he’d come to, the prince shrugs. He shrugs. He doesn’t so much as gasp or guffaw or even look down his nose at them. He shrugs.

 

“Yunho told me you take all types in. I’ll pull my weight, rest assured.”

  
With that, Song Mingi - crown prince of Neith, betrothed to the princess of Amalthea and set to be coronated at his marital ceremony - walks up the steps of ATEEZ’s cargo bay like he belongs there. Like he knows where the hell he’s even going.

 

The rest of the crew stands utterly paralyzed for a couple of minutes. Nobody moves. Not a single one. They just stay there, gaping statues, all completely baffled as to what the hell just happened. Why the hell is a prince on their ship? And why does he want to stay?

 

“Uh- Captain-?” Wooyoung’s voice on the intercom reanimates the living-stunned.

 

“Uh- Wh-wha-?” Hongjoong replies.

 

“Our shields are starting to dip low. Can I, like, move?”

 

“Uh…” The syllable stretches out dumbly as Hongjoong remembers how to think. “Yeah. Get us out of their vicinity.”

 

“They’re gonna chase us. For some reason, they think we have the price,” Wooyoung responds.

 

“Uh- Yeah, ‘bout that… Y’know what. We’ll talk later. Get us the fuck out and do a short jump. Just enough to get them off our tail. They won’t be able to track us.”

 

“Yes, sir.” _“Click.”_

 

“We’ll talk about this later,” The captain mutters quietly. He nods, as if something new’s come to him, but he just repeats himself louder, “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

He scuttles up the steps quickly without another word. Without even yelling at Yunho. Odds are, he’s trying to find where the hell the prince has wandered off to. The shock gradually dissipates, and San unlatches from Jongho.

 

“I think I need to lie down for awhile,” The siren says. That’s fair. This is a lot for him. Yunho’s not sure how life was on his home planet, but no doubt there’s intense culture shock happening now. And probably regular shock. San likely hadn’t expected to get chased off another planet in such a spectacular fashion.

 

“Uh- We should probably all rest,” Yunho agrees with the other’s sentiment. He turns to say something to Jongho, but the kid’s just staring at him, mouth wide open. “J-Jongho? You okay buddy?”

 

Jongho shakes his head, stupefied, “How good are you in bed?”

 

Yunho rolls his eyes, and heat floods to his face, “Wh- What the fuck are you talking about?” He decides to follow San upstairs.

 

“Dude some Venusian prince just risked _everything-_ after a few hours with you.”

 

“It’s- it’s not like that-”

 

“You’ve _got_ to tell me your secrets.”

 

“Aren’t you, like, twelve?” Yunho jabs.

 

“Fuck off. I’m not done growing yet.”

 

“I think you are.”

 

“Hey, I’m big where it counts.”

 

“Ew- Why are you so nasty-?!”

 

“I’m not the one who’s got princes jumping off of buildings for…”

 

The two go back and forth as they venture up the stairs. Yunho’s head spins. Everything happened way too fast, and now that the brakes have been pressed, he labors to reel it all in.

 

* * *

 

Kim Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. Aching pain knocks at his temples. It’s not from drinking too much or dehydration from dancing too much. Oh no, it’s nothing as fun as that. It’s stress. It is definitely stress. He feels the toll his nerves are taking on him throughout his entire body. Never mind how sore his limbs are after booking it from the palace or the bruises and welts he’s probably got from hand to hand combat. None of that compares to the semi-permanent ache in his chest from anxiousness. Or the fucking headache.

 

None of that is helped by Prince Song Mingi of Neith, either.

 

As he’d anticipated, the Neith royal guard had taken pursuit when they left the atmosphere. Their shields got dropped down to a dangerously low twenty percent. _Again_. The fuckers just can’t seem to get a break. Wooyoung got them to jump and, thankfully, that was the end of the chase. Joong’s pretty sure they’ll get vaporized if they enter Venusian space again, and all of their allies - plus the GC - are probably on extra high alert.

 

All because one stubborn motherfucker refuses to get off of his damn ship.

 

“What part of this isn’t clear?” Jongho tries again. Hongjoong had called a meeting after everything had somewhat settled down. Now six of them sit in the living room floor in a circle. “We do crimes!” Jongho says, like that’s their job.

 

“Now hold on just a second-” Joong protests. “Let’s not- that’s- we happen to maybe do somethings that are… Extralegal.”

 

“Illegal,” Jongho says snappily. “They’re illegal-”

 

“What I’m saying is we don’t _try_ to do crimes. We just… Don’t agree with the Coalition’s philosophies is all,” Hongjoong says.

 

Jongho gives him an annoyed look. It’s probably warranted considering the point of this meeting is to convince his majesty to get the fuck off of their boat. Joong regrets his decision to protect their (read: his) pride. He probably should drive the crime point more. Get Prince Mingi home. Take at least one of many bullseyes off of their back.

 

“I told you, I don’t care,” Prince Mingi responds firmly. Joong doesn’t know what the fuck Yunho told this guy, but he wishes the canis would _un_ tell it. Whatever happened during their short tryst apparently resulted in Prince Mingi getting it in his head that ATEEZ is the place to be. Too bad Yunho is the opposite of helpful - said canis is too busy drooling over him from across the circle.

 

“Your majesty, you have a- a whole kingdom relying on you,” Wooyoung tries the guilt route. It’s a good call. Hongjoong wishes he’d thought if it earlier - as opposed to the self-deprecation route of telling the prince how _bad_ they are. In spite of how much of a scaredy-cat his majesty describes himself as, the danger angle did nothing, either. The shit kept saying “I’m confident I’ll be okay” and making eyes at Yunho. Not only is that _gross_ , but it’s also counterproductive.

 

“My brother can take the throne,” The prince throws out nonchalantly. It occurs to Hongjoong that his lack of caring is seriously irresponsible. However, given that he’s based his life’s direction around a folktale Compass, he quickly digresses from his judgment.

 

“And you’re really, truly okay with this?” Hongjoong asks, looking the other hard in the eye. “You know this isn’t a cruise ship, right? We don’t have the luxuries that your castle does. You’re not gonna get served- hell, the food’s not even that good. We’re not gonna tolerate any royal temper tantrums, either.”

 

“I understand,” Prince Mingi says and, to his credit, he sounds completely serious. The gaze he returns to Hongjoong is unwavering and almost dire.

 

Hongjoong, in spite of his pride and reasonable sense of self-importance, shrinks a bit beneath the weight of the other’s gaze. Perhaps that’s the nobility jumping out. It’s jarring, how Prince Mingi turns a switch and goes from being a thorn in the captain’s side to a formidable presence, someone whose determination is almost palpable.

 

His majesty even takes it further, adding, “I don’t want any special treatment, either. On this ship - and across the universe - I’m nobody’s prince or superior. Call me Mingi.”

 

“Mingi,” Hongjoong tests the word on his tongue. The name is short and cute, and it rolls off the tongue easily. He likes that a great deal more than “Prince Mingi”. The captain nods, “Okay, Mingi. Well, given your circumstances, you’re free to get off this ship at any time, okay? Just say the word, we’ll find some outpost- somewhere you can safely contact your people where we won’t get our asses blown up. ‘Cause they’ll probably vaporize us on sight of we enter Venusian space.”

 

“That’s the third planet we’ve been banned from,” Jongho pouts.

 

“Is _not_!” Wooyoung corrects him, “It’s the _second_. KQ is a colony, not a planet.”

 

The prince ignores them,“I won’t need it, but okay. I appreciate the option. I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

Wooyoung squints incredulously, “What makes you so sure?”

 

Prince Mingi- no, just _Mingi-_ glances at him, “I go back home, I get married to a stranger. I don’t wanna marry a stranger. And I don’t wanna live my entire life in one country, on one planet.”

 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Wooyoung mumbles.

 

Hongjoong heaves a sigh, “Welcome to ATEEZ, Song Mingi.” He says.

 

Mingi beams victoriously. He knows he’s won. His stubbornness is too strong for them. They’d tried appealing from various different angles, but nothing worked. And so, somehow, some fucking way, ATEEZ indoctrinates it's newest member of the crew. A fucking Venusian prince.

 

It’s not that Hongjoong has anything against the guy personally. He just supposes that, being honest, Mingi’s gonna have to do a lot to impress him. He’s seen those high society types on the junk planets before. The ones who occasionally foray into the fringes of society for quick amusement before going back to their safe, clean, fancy homes.

 

He also feels protective of Yunho, his best friend, the only person he could trust for a long, long time. Even now, Yunho’s his closest confidant. The others are creeping their way in slowly, but Yunho is still it. Hongjoong doesn’t like to be a downer, and it’s not like he wants to be disingenuous to Yunho’s merits, either. Things just don’t add up from his perspective. ATEEZ isn’t some playground, and Yunho’s not a toy. And if Hongjoong gets an inkling that Mingi thinks of his ship and crew that way, even the slightest hint of it, he’s not sure what he’ll do.

 

“We ought to have a ceremony for this,” Yunho jokes with a lopsided grin. He looks happy. Exhausted but happy. They all probably are. “Wait- Captain- get the polish-!”

 

“Hm?” Hongjoong comes back to the present. His gaze follows Yunho’s pointed finger to see a bottle of black nail polish he’d left on the side table earlier.

 

Yunho sticks up his pinky, “He’s officially ATEEZ. We have to signify it somehow.”

 

“We do?” Hongjoong’s words are negative, but he grabs the bottle obligingly regardless.  


“Yup! Mingi, give him your hand!”

 

Yunho looks ecstatic. He looks beyond ecstastic. He’s glowing. All because of what? The prince, that’s what. Hongjoong purses his lips. He scoots forward and uncaps the bottle cautiously. As he takes Mingi’s hand in his own, he swallows down his reservations, his bad experiences, and his own personal judgments. Because they’re just that: his. They are his prejudices, not Yunho’s. As affable as his humecanis friend is, Yunho’s never been a bad judge of character.

 

On the contrary, Yunho’s an amazing judge of character. He calls it how he sees it, and he usually sees people as they are (save for a few occasions in which he’s over-enthusiastic). This may be one of those times. Perhaps he’s just smitten, too blinded by affection and want to really see who Prince Mingi really is.

 

Or maybe he’s not.

 

And maybe Hongjoong should have a bit of faith in his best friend’s judge of character.

 

Okay, Song Mingi can get a chance - Hongjoong thinks to himself as he carefully positions the wet brush above Mingi’s pinky.

 

“Bum- bum-bum-bum-bummm-” The others hum out of sync as Joong swipes the black pigment over the Venusian’s pinky nail.

 

“And done!” Hongjoong exclaims triumphantly when the other’s fingernail is covered. Dramatic applause follows, along with too-loud congratulations and cheers.

 

“I didn’t get a ceremony like this,” San faux-pouts.

 

“Wh- Yeah, where’s my ceremony?” Jongho asks.

 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Okay, fine. Bring ‘em in, all of you. We’re doing this tonight. The _official_ ATEEZ initiation ceremony.” The rest of the crew (including Yunho, who already has a painted pinky) reaches their hands forward. An entirely too enthused commotion breaks out as they playfully vy for the spot most front-and-center to their benevolent nail painting captain.

 

They’re idiots, Hongjoong thinks.

 

But now, they’re _his_ idiots.

 

* * *

 

“...and finally, the bridge,” Hongjoong says to Mingi.

 

After the newly minted initiation ceremony, half of the crew dispersed. San went to take a bath, and the other two went to their bedrooms. Joong and Yunho linked up to give Mingi a tour and get him a room. The bridge is their last stop, and the captain gestures grandly to the space.

 

“Whoa,” Mingi gasps and immediately walks toward the window. A little smile crosses his lips, and he leans over the pilot’s console to get as close to the glass as possible.

 

“You’ve never been in space, your maje- er- Mingi?” Hongjoong asks.

 

Mingi shakes his head wordlessly.

 

The captain heaves a sigh. After almost an hour, he finally feels himself coming down from the peak anxiety that’d had its hold over him for hours. There’s something gratifying about watching someone’s first impression of space. Something that doesn’t quite get old. In spite of the fortitude he’s shown and his impressive stature, Mingi has an innocence about him, too. He’s going to have a lot of those moments, those firsts. Hongjoong isn’t mad about being there for him.

 

He catches Yunho out of the corner of his eye. Yunho plays it cool, his arms are crossed and he doesn’t say much. But his tail’s swaying side to side.

 

These two are gonna be trouble, Hongjoong thinks.

 

Hell. Gonna be? These two are trouble. He’ll have to keep an eye on them.

 

“Whoa,” Mingi turns around, and he crosses over to the middle of the bridge - to the Compass. “This is… Fascinating.” He reaches out toward it. “Can- can I touch it?”

 

Joong grins. Whenever someone talks about his Compass, he gets all giddy inside.

 

“Did Yunho tell you about this thing?”

 

Mingi shakes his head.

 

“Yunho,” Joong playfully chastises the other. “You told him all the crimes we’ve committed but not about this?”

 

“Hm?” Yunho jerks slightly, like he’d been shaken awake.

 

“Oh god- go to bed, pupper,” Hongjoong tells the canis.

 

Yunho protests, “No, ‘m fine.”

 

“You were about to fall asleep standing up,” Joong softly kicks Yunho on the leg. “Go bed.” Yunho shakes his head. “That’s an order from your captain,” Hongjoong tells him. “Maybe I want some alone time with the prince, too, huh?”

 

Mingi chuckles at that. Yunho heaves a sigh and grumbles a bit but eventually complies. His tail swishes behind him lackadaisically as he lumbers down the steps toward his room.

 

“You can touch it, by the way,” Hongjoong tells the Venusian when Yunho’s made it down the steps without passing out halfway through the trip.

 

Mingi beams and, damn, okay, Hongjoong can see a little bit of why Yunho’s so infatuated. Mingi’s eyes squint up, and his entire face blossoms into a big, massive smile. He’d seemed so flawless up on that screen in the plaza. But, looking closer, Joong notices little stuff. His two front teeth are slightly misaligned, and there’s faint scarring on his cheeks from… Acne? Who knew Venusians got acne. Hongjoong certainly doesn’t recall seeing any on the planet. Of course, thinking back on it, they probably all wear lots of makeup. Weirdly enough, those flaws just make Song Mingi more charming than ever. The guy’s full of contradictions. He’s naive but mischievous. He’s cute but imposing, regal yet somehow gawky and ditzy. Maybe Song Mingi didn’t fit the princely mold as well as he seemed. Was that the real reason he jumped - because he felt like he didn’t fit what a Venusian noble should be? Or did he jump _because_ his character is that of someone who isn’t your typical noble?

 

Hongjoong is resigned in the fact that he may never get the answer to that question. It’s sort of a chicken and egg thing, really. All in all, it matters naught, because Mingi’s there anyways. Assuming the guy’s true to his word, that’s where he’ll stay for a long, long time.

 

“Where did you find this?” Mingi asks, hunched over the Compass. His breath fogs the glass as he squints at the innards of the globe.

 

“It, uh, it was under a lot of junk,” Hongjoong answers.

 

“And you knew it went on the navigation console?”

 

“Uh- Well, yes. It’s a Compass.”

 

Mingi stands up, eyebrows raised, “You called it a Compass.”

 

“Of course I did. That’s… That’s what it is. Why? You got another name for it?”

 

“No,” The Venusian shakes his head, grinning, “I just- I think it’s cool. We came from different planets, but to us it’s exactly the same thing. Kinda makes it more real, don’t you think?”

 

“Um- I think you’re losing me a bit.”

 

“This- the- the Compass,” The (former) prince looks thrilled. “It’s- It’s just like in this story I used to read as a kid. It was about an adventurer named Mads. He hunted for this fabled Treasure, and in the end he recorded its location in a special, magic-slash-technological map. The illustration looked just like this.”

 

“Whoa,” Hongjoong feels his heart skip a beat. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah. Ever heard of it?”

 

“Uh, yes!” The captain lights up. “I was obsessed with it during childhood. I- I- even into adulthood. I…” He looks at the beautiful, brassy compass. Even with its unstable, flickering projection and illegible carvings, the device is gorgeous to him. “I never stopped believing. But, wait- what did you say the adventurer’s name was?”

 

“Uh, Mads, why?”

 

“In my version it was always Dex.”

 

“Huh,” Mingi nods. “Well, it was told one way on Venus, but I’ve heard that there’s lots of different versions of the story.”

 

“Yeah, for sure, but now I’m curious… Tell me what you heard growing up.”

 

Mingi leans against the nearby wall and nods, “Oh, good idea. Let’s compare notes.”

 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong’s liking this guy more and more already.

 

“Well, on Venus, the story starts with a bright young person named Mads. They grew up on some desolate, old colony. A dusty place. I think they called it Maars…”

 

* * *

 

Yunho rolls around uncomfortably in his bed. He’s tired, but can’t sleep. His mind hasn’t settled from his day. God. Day. A single day. How can so much happen in such a short period of time? It’s like the powers that be decide to offset the days of lazing around in space with super compact days full of everything. He’d felt happiness, humiliation, anger, fear, and affection all in that short period of time. Of course, now when it’s time to finally sleep, in spite of how ragged out he feels, he can’t. Figures.

 

The canis heaves a sigh and runs his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time. It’s okay. Kind of. He stretches out again, letting his long limbs touch the edges of the built-in bed unit. Nothing’s quite comfortable. Excitement still dances just beneath his skin. It’s like he’s waiting for something on a cellular level. Like something had been built up, but he’d never gotten a resolution.

 

Letting out a dissatisfied puff of air, Yunho rolls over onto his back. His fingers graze his abdomen. They ghost over it at first, then he flattens his palm against it and rubs in round strokes. It’s… There. He certainly gets the basic sensation of a hand on a stomach. His hand on his stomach.

 

“Stupid,” He breathes out for only himself to hear. He knew his effort was an optimistic one at best, but part of him had hoped that, well, doing it himself would have the same effect. Unsurprisingly, it does not.

 

No matter how hard he tried, where he tried to scratch or rub, it never felt as nice as Song Mingi’s hands did. Embarrassment hollows out a pit in Yunho, making him wish he could burrow into his bed. Like that’d somehow help.

 

Shame almost suffocates him when the thought passes his mind: he wants to get pet again.

 

The words strung together in his mind are so excruciating, the canis actually flails around in his bed, devastated.

 

_“Knock. Knock.”_

 

Yunho freezes.

 

_“Knock. Knock.”_

 

“U-Um, Yunho?” Speak of the devil. “Are you still up?” Mingi asks timidly from the other side of the door.

 

Yunho scrambles up, slamming the on button for his bed lamp, “Y-yeah, come in.” He turns to the little control console - a tiny PC built into the wall of bis bed nook - and punches the security code. The door slides open with a soft “shiff” noise, and a tall figure darkens the entryway. “You can come in,” He says again.

 

Song Mingi pads in, sheepish as ever, and the door automatically shuts behind him, “S-Sorry if I disturbed you.”

 

“I wasn’t asleep anyways,” Yunho shrugs. Pet me, he thinks. “What is it?”

 

“I just, um… I just wanted to thank you. I wish I knew how, really.”

 

“Huh? Thank me for what?”

 

“For- for everything, but, mostly for saving my life.”

 

“Well, of course I saved your life. What was I gonna do? Watch you go splat on the ground? I mean- seriously what were you thinking?!”

 

A coy smile falls onto the Venusian’s lips, “I was thinking… ‘be bold, be brave’.” He waggles his eyebrows at the canis.

 

“Wh- I said you could be brave, yes. Not stupid.”

 

“I believe you’re also the person who said they’re basically the same thing.”

 

“I- Wh-” Yunho pouts. He got checkmated. “Wellk, don’t go jumping off any high balconies again, okay? I can’t promise I’ll be around next time.”

 

“But if you are, you’ll save me again?” The Venusian grins impishly.

 

“There are easier ways to get my attention if that’s what you want,” Yunho quips.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mingi says. He turns on his heel to exit the room but abruptly halts. When he looks at Yunho again, he looks sheepish, and he wrings his hands together, “Actually there is… One more thing.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“The, uh, well- I really hate to impose on you, to be honest.”

 

“Mingi, you’re not imposing on me, I promise. Now- what is it?”

 

“Well, you see, uh, given the impulsive nature of my arrival on this ship, I don’t have much to my name.”

 

“Right, of course. Do you- d’you need something?”

 

Mingi presses his lips together and nods, “It’s really just- just- actually nevermind. I can- I’m just going to-”

 

“Mingi,” Yunho cuts him off. “Don’t hesitate, just ask. What do you need?”

 

“W-Well, I, um, all I have are the clothes on my back, but a tailored Venusian suit isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep in,” Mingi frowns. “Given that you’re easily the closest to me in size, the captain proposed I- I ask you to- to borrow something to sleep in. I understand that you all have limited means as well, and if this is an imposition-”

 

“What? That’s it?”

 

“Uh- Well, yes.”

 

Yunho chuckles. Mingi had made it sound like such a big deal. So what, he needs pajamas? The guy’s right, nobody on ATEEZ has much to spare, but lucky for Mingi, Yunho had gone shopping just earlier that day. He’d gotten some comfy stuff after sticking his ass out for a child. Sparing one or two items isn’t a big deal.

 

“Here,” Yunho throws his blanket off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He opens one of the built-in cabinets next to his bed nook and fishes around a little bit. His fingertips find soft fabric, and out he pulls a pair of shorts. They looked pretty comfy, and Yunho intended them to be an alternate pair for sleeping. It’s hardly an inconvenience. The canis holds them out in offering, and the prince hesitantly takes them.

 

He sizes them up, holding them up to himself, then shrugs. Yunho shuts his wardrobe, and another yawn takes over his entire body.

 

“Thank you,” Mingi says. Yunho just nods, his eyes squeezed shut and body stretching out yet again.

 

“Don’t worry about returning them,” Yunho slurs through his yawn. He rubs his eyes, “Next time we stop somewhere with cash, we can get you some stuff. You can see how the common folk shop.”

 

“Sounds fun,” The Venusian chuckles.

 

When he’s rubbed his eyes enough, Yunho blinks them open slowly. The world comes into focus bit by bit. When Yunho finally sees what’s in front of him, his heart jumps into his throat, and his mouth falls ajar.

 

“I’ve only heard stories about shops and bazaars on other planets,” Mingi says thumbs hooking beneath the waistline of his tailored pants. His pristinely fitted, very expensive jacket and shirt are already in a rumpled pile on the floor. The Venusian’s bare torso practically glows in the dark. Maybe it’s his skin’s natural luminescence, or maybe that’s just Yunho’s imagination embellishing on the glorious, lean, muscular body on display.

 

“Uh-” That’s all Yunho can do. Stutter out a single, stupid syllable. Song Mingi will be his cause of death at this rate. If his ass doesn’t get killed on suspicion of abducting the crown prince, it’ll be from some weird heart attack caused by being confronted with such unparalleled beauty.

 

“Hm?” Mingi pauses, quirking an eyebrow at Yunho while one of his legs is already out of his pants.

 

Mayday. Mayday.

 

Seeing the pillar of pure muscle bare in the flesh almost makes Yunho faint.

 

“You- you don’t have to change now-!” The delayed reaction comes, and Yunho hides his eyes behind his hand.

 

“Huh? Oh- I don’t mind,” Mingi says reassuringly. In truth, Yunho doesn’t mind, either. That’s the problem. The Venusian, apparently not getting it, elaborates, “I spent two years in a military camp as a trainee- all men of the Song family do it. Spent time in the barracks with no privacy whatsoever, so don’t worry about me.”

 

Yunho hears the sound of more fabric shifting around, and he dares not take a peek.

 

Mingi chuckles, “It’s okay. I know I haven’t lived a life like some of you have, but, I’m not a delicate flower, either. I can take a little bit of rough.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Yunho nods from behind his hand.

 

“Yunho, why are you covering your eyes?”

 

“To- To protect your modesty,” And myself - he thinks.

 

“But I just told you-”

 

“Did you need anything else?” Yunho doesn’t want to sound like he’s rushing the other, but he’s starting to get hot under the collar.

 

“Uh- No. No, I’m fine.”

 

“Okay, well, I’m glad I could help.”

 

“You look silly talking to me with your hand up like that,” Mingi snickers.

 

Yunho’s about to fire back with something, but a hand wraps around his wrist and gingerly guides it down. The flustered canis comes face to face with the barely-dressed Venusian who looks more amused than anything. At least one of them is. Yunho feels like he’s dying.

 

“Good night, Yunho,” Mingi says, his voice dropping into something husky. Maybe it’s the sleepiness, Yunho muses.

 

“Good- good night, Mingi,” Yunho chokes out his response, straining to keep his eyes above the neck.

 

The Venusian smiles fondly before turning around. He bends over to grab his clothes off the floor, and Yunho mentally kicks himself for sneaking a look. He wrests his eyes away from the other’s backside after a few seconds, instead focusing them in his lap.

 

It’s a nice lap. A great one, actually. Yes. Much better than the tall, handsome prince standing half-naked in the middle of the room. Yup. Much better than that.

 

“Hey, Yunho,” Mingi says once he’s standing in the doorway.

 

“Hm?” Yunho reflexively glances at the other. Big mistake. Mingi’s entire backside is bathed in low lamplight. The yellowy light accents the peaks of his carved figure while shadows dip into the valleys, painting a gorgeous picture of his statuesque features.

 

“Your tail’s wagging,” The Venusian says.

 

 _“Shiff.”_ The door shuts behind him, leaving Yunho in a room that all of a sudden feels suffocating and hot.

 

The canis twists his neck to check over his shoulder and, yeah, his tail’s wagging. Probably has been this whole time. The treacherous bastard. White hot, molten embarrassing pours over Yunho slowly, cooking him from inside out.

 

Yunho rolls over onto his bed again and smothers his face in his pillow, screaming.

 

He’s a humecanis - a rare, often parahiatic race - on a mission to find the missing pieces of the Compass, in hopes of tracking down the legendary, fabled Treasure. He’s on the run from the Galactic Coalition and the Neith royal guard. Also the sirens of Ubureru are on high alert, and there’s a good chance that they’ll kill him (or any of his friends) should they step foot too close to their planet again. Now, on top of that, he needs to somehow not _combust_ every time he sees his crush. That’d be all swell and dandy if his crush didn’t have a room just a short walk across the common area to the opposite hall. Also if his crush didn’t decide to undress in front of him. And tease him. Basically, life has given the humecanis so, _so_ much more than he bargained for.

 

And, Yunho’s got a funny feeling that he’s in for so, so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> // none of the person(s) or brand(s) in this piece belong to me.


End file.
